A mix of music fills the air: pop, jazz, classical, rock. I turn toward Lakeshore Drive behind me. Bikers, joggers and walkers fill the narrow beachfront road, their heads turned toward the water as if pulled by a magnet. Resorters have their newly washed and shined convertibles out for a ride, tops down, music blaring.

I crane my neck and scan the old road. The ancient limbs of towering sugar maples and pines have created a canopy over Lakeshore Drive, and it resembles a tunnel of trees, a byway for gnomes, perhaps. This simple view remains one of my summer favorites, as pretty as the beach, the dunes, the lake.

Such a difference from this winter, I think.

I turn and look back at the cottage, the turret winking.

Such a difference from this winter, I think again, winking back.

I walk to the beach steps and stop at the top. Lake Michigan is stretched out before me, flat and sparkling like a blue sequined dress. The sandy shore arcs both directions until it fades into a hazy mist like a mirage. The sky is cloudless, and the lack of humidity has turned it as blue as my hydrangeas. Boats and Jet Skis fly by in the distance, the noise briefly overpowering the sleepy lull of the waves lapping the shore before they fade into the distance.

I head down the steps and kick off my flip-flops when I reach the sand.

“Ow!” I say, not expecting the sand to be so hot. “Ow! Ow!”

I step back into my shoes and trudge toward the lakeshore, my sandals flipping sand up my legs.

The lakeshore is jammed today. People walk the shore, and the screams of swimmers diving into the still chilly water echo over the lake. I laugh at the whoops and hollers of visitors to Lake Michigan, who don’t realize the water often doesn’t edge above seventy degrees until July Fourth.

My little section of the lakeshore is empty, however. When my grandparents purchased Cozy Cottage, they also purchased over a hundred feet of lakeshore frontage. This sandy stretch is worth as much or perhaps more than the cottage itself, and is one of the secret reasons I wanted to keep this in the family.

“People want to be on the water,” my grandfather used to say, referencing not only Saugatuck but also Chicago. “And, one day, there just won’t be any more waterfront property to buy. And when it sells, few will be able to afford it.”

A recent listing near mine for an empty, half-acre lot with fifty feet of frontage was on the market for one million dollars. I pick up a handful of sand and let it filter through my fingers. It looks like gold.

Fitting, I think.

I search for the perfect spot and find a flat area near the lake, where the receding tide has dampened the sand, but the sun has begun to dry it. Perfect.