Several years ago, when my wife and I were expecting our first child, we attended a birthing class to help prepare us (mostly me) for the exciting events that we would soon experience.  It was an immensely helpful class (especially in getting me over my squeamishness), but one of the stronger lasting memories from that class was a relaxation technique we learned.  As part of that technique, we (each) defined a place and activity where we could “go” when we needed to relax.  (You can well imagine this being helpful in conjunction with the breathing techniques we also learned there.)  My special activity and place was lying on a raft (with a glass of lemonade), drifting across a quiet mountain lake with clear water, a light breeze, and puffy white clouds in the sky.

 

My wife’s special place came in very handy shortly after that lesson.  My special place has never been as necessary as her’s, but I have often fantasized about it.  For many years, I had visited this place, Petit Lake, on the east side of the Sawtooths in central Idaho.  Last July, I showed this place to my brother-in-law.  There we sat at a table on the shore, eating lunch, and just absorbing the beauty and serenity of the setting.  For several moments, no words were spoken (nor were they needed).  It dawned on me then that I had, in fact, found my special place incarnate.

 

The photos I’ve taken here are nice.  Sometimes there is more snow on the distant mountains.  Sometimes the clouds are more wispy.  Sometimes there are different rocks sticking up out of the water (which has made me wonder how they got there), and sometimes the water is more mirror-like and takes on a more radiant blue-green coloration.  Regardless of how nice the pictures turn out from an aesthetic standpoint, they are forever more perfectly associated with my fantasy.  From now on, when I need to “go” to my special place, that place has a name, and I have pictures which remind me of the details.  Someday, I must bring a raft (and some lemonade).