Sacred Places

Lake Cavanaugh, (http://www.lakelubbers.com/img/photos/946-m.jpg)

Lazy summer days. Sunburns. Croaking frogs. Stars. Wind. Reflection. The sound of lapping water. The smell of lake, plants, slowly rotting wood...a Pacific Northwest smell. Sights, sounds, smells...these are the things that make up the memory of sacred places. Growing up I spent many a hot August afternoon fishing, looking past the glare of the water into the quiet underwater world of bass.  Sometimes hours would be wiled away rocking on the porch, eating, laughing with friends and neighbors, swatting persistent horseflies until we were driven off the porch and into the safety of the cold blue lake. At night, I sat next to a crackling fire, watching bats swoop and dip in their hunt for insects. This is  my sacred place. I haven't had a chance to visit as often as I would like since moving away from home. But these memories of my sacred place follow me wherever I go.  Where is your sacred place?