Lakes

Yesterday, Kathy Hinchman invited people from Reading and Language Arts to her camp north of Altmar, Parish and Williamstown. Sitting on the front porch drinking a beer, I was reminded of the view of Lebanon Reservoir near Hamilton, New York, where I spent most of my childhood summers.

No, there weren't the hills nor Grannie Annie's ceramic frog collection, but the lake was small and beautiful, similar to the damned water where we used to watch the stars bathe during the day. I decided to look up my grandmother's lake, Loch Lebanon as she called it, and found these two images. One is an aerial focusing on the campground (our camp was on the other side of the lake) and the other is the entrance way to the path that lead to the candy store. Many times, Casey, Cynde and I walked to get treats or icecream by this path. It looks cleaner now and more floral.

Being by such water is a piece of heaven and smelling lake air last night made me really miss the ritual of seeing Ann and Spence every weekend. There will be a time again, though, where "dam car, five points" will be in my ears. The popping of a can of beer, the sound of a lighter going after a camel, and the beauty of my grandmother's latest poem all being heard as the sun sets behind the cabin. Such simple happiness, really.