As I swing the back door open— 
I listen to the sad song of a loon lurking in the lake.
I hearken the boisterous blow of a pileated woodpecker’s beak on a tree.
I take notice of the buzz of the bees in the trees.

As I stroll through a stretch of woods—
I inhale the fresh fragrance of the soaring pines.
I detect the delicate scent of wildflowers scattered along the path.
I breathe in the faint odor of last night's campfire.

As I skip down the steps to the pier—
I lick the bitter sap covering my fingers.
I sample the slight sweetness of the honeysuckle flowers.
I savor the simple Nicolet water. 

As I parade down the pier— 
I observe the otters oscillating underwater.
I watch the wind and lake preform a dance of twirls and tumbles.
I spot spiders spinning webs on the lone bench at the end of the pier.

As I dip my feet into the lake—
I wiggle my toes in the wintry water.
I welcome the warm sun that causes sweat to swirl down my back.  
I notice the wind whirling in my hair as the back door swings shut.