Cosmically, they say I’m meant to be by bodies of water, but I never was much of a beachgoer, preferring the cool of the mountains over the oppressive heat down below. I figured it was more metaphorical—like I’m meant to be hobnobbing with the coastal elite, wherever they may be.
But the amount of joy I’ve been feeling from being a stone’s throw from Lake Washington is changing my mind. Here’s our neighbor Chuck, the beaver, doing his daily laps. I don’t know if it really is the same beaver every day; all beavers are now Chuck, just like all rabbits are Francis and all crows are Benedict.