Brown earth comprised a thin trail from the shore to his log cabin. Hemlocks, spruce, birch, and maples somewhat protected the pathway. Autumn leaves had already turned, creating a canopy of oranges, reds, and yellows. Few leaves had fallen from the mass of trees, hanging on to their airy homes for probably the next two weeks, not a day longer.
I followed the artist to his cabin, checking out his bulbous ass in a pair of tight blue jeans. The man wore a pair of rugged and well-used work boots and a red-and-black flannel shirt. The outline of a square wallet decorated his left rear pocket. Together, we moved slowly through the woods, away from the two green boats and the lapping lake’s water. Above us, the storm raised Cain, creating louder booms and cracking lightning.
Panting while clim
