Wolf Lake

Chapter 4

I really need to repaint this porch… I berate myself for at least the 10th time this year as I reach the top step and take my keys out to open the front door of my two bedroom bungalow. A professional apiary makes a  pretty decent living and last year I was finally able to move out of my loft apartment and into my “perfect” southern-style bungalow. The sellers used the term “fixer-upper” charitably, but with my dad’s help it has come a very long way. While it does not have direct lake access, I can see the beach through my neighbors yards across the street and have an amazing view. The neighbors by me are mostly snow-birds anyway and are only ever in the area a few months out of the year. The prior bungalow owner had not kept up with the care of the place and the weather had been rough on the exterior. The interior still needs a lot of work to get it caught up to the current century, but it was coming along very nicely. 

The exterior is a deep slate blue with white accents along the wide veranda, down the tall columns, and around the windows and doors. The front door is surrounded by small window openings with some stained glass accents that I absolutely fell in love with the moment I saw them. The veranda covers a large porch that is open without railings and decorated with some potted plants and Adirondack chairs. It is such a nice place to enjoy the sunset and peaceful afternoons and evenings. 

I lock the door behind me, making my way across the hardwood floors and head up the stairs to my bedroom. While both bedrooms and bathrooms are on the first floor, I prefer to sleep in the smaller upstairs space that I have converted to a third bedroom area to stay in during the warmer months. The large dormer window catches the cool breeze off the lake and has a much better view. In the winter months I stay in the master, enjoying the use of the small fireplace and centralizing the heat to one floor to save on energy. Old houses like this are so drafty. 

I grab my towel from the door hook and head back down the stairs. Another favorite feature that sold me on the bungalow was the giant clawfoot tub in the master bathroom. Last night after a long bath I went straight up to my room and got into bed. While I would love to have another long hot soak tonight, a quick shower would have to do. I untie the curtain and pull it closed around the basin before turning on the hot water. 

I pull at the hair tie around my long waves. Oww…. owww…… OowWw… I whine as my hair pulls and catches from a tangled combination of dirt, honey, and a day of sweat. I finally get my hair free and gently try to run my fingers through the ends, hissing impatiently as they catch and tug painfully at my scalp. I look at the handful of loose hairs in my hand and wonder how I am not bald by now…. That would make for an interesting looking Wolf… I muse to myself. Fortunately, the fur of our Wolf form is not tied to our human hair. The appearance of our Wolves, as far as fur coloration, is determined by geography, much like wolves. While grays and browns colors like grey wolves are the most common colorations, Northern Wolves can have white fur like an arctic wolf and Southern Wolves can be a dusty red like the nearly extinct red wolves. 

I take a quick shower, as promised, making sure to get a quick exfoliating scrub from neck to toes while the conditioner sat in my hair doing its magic on my tangles. I run a bit of product through my hair along with a tiny bit of extra conditioner before turning off the water and tossing a clean t-shirt around the wet locks while I grab a towel to dry off. The soft but tight weave of the shirt does wonders on cutting down on the frizz. I grab a simple blue blouse off a hanger in my closet and pair it with some khaki shorts. I decide on white canvas sneakers and have to dig in my top drawer for a pair of white socks with low enough ankles that match. 

I unwrap my hair from the t-shirt and give the waves a last soft scrunch in my hands before cleaning up my natural side part and pinning my overly long ‘bangs’ to the side behind my ear. While I am not blond like my grandmother, I do have lighter hair than either my parents or my sister. That combined with all the time I spend outside in the sun certainly keeps the ends of my sandy brown hair naturally highlighted. Before I had it cut last week, the furthest ends were very much blond. I take one final quick glance in the mirror before heading out, grabbing my small purse and phone.  

I make my way through town as the sun is just beginning to set, enjoying the cool breeze as the day winds down. Mom greets me with a smile as she opens the door when I reach the top step of their porch. “Just in time!” she says as she pulls me into a warm embrace. “Dad tells me you had a very productive afternoon! I’m glad to hear the bees are having such a good summer.” Mom does not know much about what goes on in and around the hives, but she is always good at making an effort to at least sound interested in the profession dad and I have chosen. “Your sister should be here any minute with Paul and the kids.” She leads me into the living room, stopping at the small bar cart. “What can I get you my dear?”

 A drink really does sound nice, but I can feel that I’m already a little dehydrated. “Just a glass of water please, with some lemon if you have one cut already.” I hear the clink of ice cubes as she turns to bring me a glass. I smile and nod in thanks as I hear the tornadoes that are my niece and nephew coming up the stairs outside.