No, I don’t believe in luck. Sometimes, though, we are the recipients of good fortune, but “Lake Fortune” does not convey the same associations as “Lake Luck.” The first could be a lake named Fortune, or it could be an adventure story about a fortune found at a lake somewhere. So at the risk of incurring wrath, and because I enjoy alliteration way too much, (oh, and because I couldn’t come up with anything else) the title stands as “Lake Luck.”
We are fortunate that one of our daughters-in-law has a family who owns a couple of completely charming cottages on a lake, and doubly fortunate that they will share the these cottages with us.
The lake’s name is “Courte Oreilles.”
Here, dear non-Romance language friends, is how you say it: Coo-da-Ray. But it is so much cooler, when saying Coo-da-Ray, to picture all those interesting vowels with random consonants thrown in for variety, isn’t it?
We were up there last week, at the tail end of the summer, when we saw more storms brew than sunshine. It was marvelous. Want to see some photos of this wonderful little region of the north woods? (That is a strictly rhetorical question.)
Below is a sports bar and grill. We took the pontoon over. The name escapes me, but let’s just say that if Santa Anna and Davy Crockett had met over a plate of their sublime nachos, we’d have no need to remember the Alamo.
These photo essay posts are so easy! I’m going to do this again, soon. Maybe tomorrow I’ll put up “Love at the Lake.” Can’t hurt to come back and check, right?