It was such an unexpectedly cold day yesterday. And windy. We thought it was going to be in the 60s but you know what they always say here, “Cooler near the lake…”

The sand was blowing like gusts of fog so I walked with my head down. Todd tied his hood tight and walked backwards. Fannie pulled on her leash, ears straight out sideways in the wind. 

Only one other person was on the beach. We called him Ringo when we were in high school. I don’t know why. 

I knew it was him because of his long curly reddish hair sticking out from his hat inside the hood. And by his hunched over posture. He added a piece of driftwood to a construction someone had started. Maybe him. 

I love forts. They remind me of giant fairy houses. 

As we walked on in the unexpectedly blustery day against the wind, there were so many magnificent pieces of driftwood lying about. I was sorry we were walking away from the fairy fort and not towards it.

That’s when the idea came to turn around and walk back the way we came instead of head up St. Mary’s Hill as usual. It was Todd’s idea after I said as much. He was skipping stones, timing them to land inbetween the waves like a master. “Five six seven!” I yelled, ready to turn around. But he kept going along the stretch of beach ahead. “Five,” he said. I followed, my head mostly down. “Five’s my favorite number,” I said. 

Then, just like that, the windy cold sand blowing stretch of lakefront became a wonder-land. A land of wonders. Now I had a mission. Isn’t that the point of life? To turn an “against the wind” kind of day in day out drudgery into an adventure?

It’s funny how quickly things can change with a change of attitude. I was no longer in a hurry to return to the house and heat up the soup, toast the baguette and read the Sunday Times I hadn’t gotten to yet. I had a fairy fort to build!