Thursday, April 23, 2009

Adventures by the Lake

Posted Aug 2, 2008 5:10pm

Today is quite remarkable – a “me” day. Although to a Leo, every day is a “me” day, this is different. I’m taking time to write, make some SoulCollage cards, call some friends. The giant green figs are starting to ripen on my tree, and every time I pick one, savoring every bite, I am reminded that it is impossible to eat a fresh warm fig and not smile.

The weather is incredibly beautiful, and that, in combination with a blog from my friend Mike, who is now riding 35 miles on his bike after a horrific ACL injury, inspired me to finally get up off my lazy butt and go for a 2 mile walk around the neighborhood. The path takes me past several back yards, and one had a fence laden with brilliant red creeping roses on the inside, and enormous purple morning glories on the other. Absolutely gorgeous.

When I was a kid, we spent our summers at our lake house in RI, and every day brought new episodes of exploring nature. Across the narrow lake from our place was an area we kids called “The Point,” where the shoreline jutted out in a short narrow strip. It was beyond the end of the houses, so it was not maintained as a beachfront, but was thick with an odd assortment of grasses and wildflowers, with delicate baby toads camouflaged at their roots. It was always a treasure hunt to find what new critters were hiding there, waiting to be my new pets. Turtles the size of half-dollars and schools of tadpoles wriggled under the compost of leaves at the edge of the water, the bulging eyes of bullfrogs peeked up between the lily pads.

The musty scent of mud and decaying vegetation that is characteristic of a fresh water pond is always the sweetest perfume to me. The slightest whiff brings me back to those warm summer days when every day was a new adventure, and my greatest responsibility in life was making my bed before noon.

I do have a point here - I took a little detour on this morning’s stroll to walk along the pond, being careful not to interrupt the ducks and a giant white egret preening in the rushes. As I veered off the paved path and down the rocky dirt hill leading down to the pond, a special gift appeared - a "Point" covered with a sweep of yellow flowering plants creeping from the water to the shore, and a wide wedge of black, smelly mud where deep footprints tattled on someone who hadn't watched where they were going. Suddenly it was summer at Lake Wionkehege, and Jackie and George were my best friends. I was 8 years old, and life was glorious and exciting.

It still is, and the adventure continues.
Love to all,