A little something I wrote this evening for a book I’m writing about a summer house…this is a stream of consciousness first draft, so be kind. 🙂
The mineral smell of steam wafts up from the wood fire and blends with the cedar wood of the sauna walls. The large, carved wooden spoon is doused into the bucket once more, its contents dashed across the hot coals, a hot misty cloud rising to the ceiling and wafting over the benches to its sweat doused inhabitants. Tied bushels of fragrant birch twigs, slapped against salty skin, add a sweet woodiness to the room. Relaxing, thinking, letting your mind go into the void.
Dashing out the door, a run down the dock into the cold briny water. The chill seizes your lungs so for a second you can’t breathe, then your skin relaxes, prickling at the change in temperature. Laughter and splashing where hours before the boat had docked and fish had been cleaned. The dinner meal now behind, its purpose changed to one of relaxation, refreshment, rejuvenation.
On the bench outside, wrapped in robes, the cool foam of beer soothes the evening as a voice on the radio tells a story. There is no news. No outside world. Just this. The beer, a bench, the beach and the view of the sun setting on a warm midsummer evening.