Lakeside living drew us to Rosslyn almost two decades ago. Swimming. Sailing. Waterskiing. Windsurfing… Watersports were and are an outsized lure, for sure. But also the lake sounds and sights. The ferry rhythm. Gulls squawking and ducks quacking. Sunrise and moonrise mirrored across a glass-flat surface. Lolling in an Adirondack chair or hammocking in Rosslyn’s boathouse, downtempo-ing, recalibrating, recharging. A water wrinkled reflection.
Tranquility. Unhurried anticipation. Observing, cataloguing, yearning to push my dory from stands to sand to water, awakening the lake, and wrinkling the reflection. (Source: Milky Morning)
A water wrinkled reflection — whether awakened by rowed dory bow or ferryboat prow, leaping lake trout or splashing down mergansers, whispering wind or howling gale — is a romantic invitation to look beyond the familiar and verisimilar. It’s nature’s wavy glass window pain.
I find something whimsical and intriguing about looking through o-o-old windows. Antique panes of glass. Wavy window glass that subtly distorts and dream-ifies the view.
[…] Wonder wells within me when grandfatherly glass slumps and swirls. It’s like a watercolor. An impressionist painting. A mirage. It invites the viewer’s curiosity and creativity to complete the image. To co-create the illusion. (Source: Wavy Window Glass)
Rosslyn attracted us with this participatory possibility, an opportunity to wonder and co-create. Eighteen years later Susan and I are still smitten, still in her thrall, and still collaborating and co-creating with Rosslyn.
What do you think?