We spent the morning with the two houseboats tied up in the cove we found last night. We did some hiking and swimming and tried to make the most of our last day on Shasta Lake. The next time any of us come back, it will probably be too close to winter to know for sure what we'll be able to do.

Spending time on the lake is a life-altering experience whenever I get there. Seeing it from the highway, taking my first steps on the new wood docks at the marina, riding in the houseboat as it backs out of the slip and heads toward open water — each experience takes me further from the cares and worries of real life. I can never feel as relaxed at home as I do at the lake.

I don't expect to get back there until Thanksgiving weekend, but that's okay. The memory of the good times over the last three days will help me get through the time between now and then.

The two boats pulled away from the bank together around noon and then untied from each other. We said goodbye to the people in the other boat, who headed back toward the marina and home right away. Our boat cruised and floated in the lake for a couple of extra hours, and then our weekend was over, too.

The drive home through the valley was a hot one, or would have been if the van didn't have air conditioning. We listened to the 49er game on the radio, as the cornfields and olive groves and small towns and rest stops rolled by outside the windows.

I got home at 6:30, too late to do any watering tonight. I'm facing another Monday morning, just like any other, but with one exception. In my mind I'm still floating on the lake, drifting above the blue water and below the blue sky. I'm surrounded by friends and family, as far as I can be from spreadsheets and telephones and the petty demands of the day. The demands will return in the morning, but the feelings will help me cope with them.