Sauna night

On Saturday night I started the fire in the sauna stove right after we finished our supper. The kindling that I picked up in the woods on my way to the sauna was still wet, so the fire started slowly and was very smoky. The wind had calmed. The smoke rose straight up for 20 feet and then bent toward the lake, finally settling low over the water in the cover.

The kingfisher continues makes its rounds, even as darkness settles, mingling with the brown birds grazing among the mosquitoes. The kingfisher is a noisy fellow. In years past, he would follow us as we paddled our canoe around the lake.

We waited until the sun was down before having our sauna. The lake, however, was unexpectedly active. As we slipped quietly into the water, we were surprised by a kayaker gliding along, not four feet from our float. Further out in the lake, there were boats filled with people of good cheer. Across the lake, some campers set off fireworks, belatedly acknowledging independence day.

The water was cool for this time of year, but when you've some from a room that is between 180 and 220F, it felt right. The hottest sauna that I've had topped out at 230. It was, um, hot. At the other end of the dial, we've also been swimming through the ice after sauna. On New Year's Eve, 1999, I cut a hole in the ice, then about 6-8" thick, and we had ourselves a bracing dip. The lake was quiet. There were just a couple lights visible.

When I was growing up, Saturday night was sauna night. Company would arrive in the late afternoon. We'd have food, including the beet and herring salad that my mother called Silli Salad, silli being the Finnish word for herring. The sauna would be ready by seven or so. People would go off to sauna in twos (married couples) or more (all men, all women, or kids). The last sauna would be finished by 11:00.