After I hit the “publish” button on the “serene” post, I sat
on the porch swing at Schroon, contemplating the westerly view over the lake of the
Adirondacks, specifically Sleeping Giant.
The lake is serene. Salmon
remnants of the sunset hovered over the mountain-tops. The weather is serene. As I listen to the creak of the swing chains,
I am serene.
I will miss this serenity once our Schroon season ends for
the summer. Yet, serenity awaits in
Delmar. I imagine the silent serenity of
falling snow in seasons future.
When we awoke Sunday morning, pea soup fog levitated over the
lake, obscuring the westerly view. By
mid-morning, the magic fog rolled northward, revealing that it was no trick, that the western shore remained in place.
The lake belonged to us, as we paddled our kayaks for our benedictory
paddle of the season. In the deep parts of
the lake, sunlight reflected the gentle waves into the depths, creating an illusion of translucent curtains fluttering. Lake weeds waved at us
as they rose and fell indecisively toward the surface.
A fall fire of changing leaves glowed on the rocky Adirondack
slopes. I returned to our shore with a
tennis ball and seagull feather scooped from the lake. Rich
returned with a damp bottle of Aleve and a seagull feather.
To celebrate the autumnal equinox, we took the long way
home, taking Route 8 around Brant Lake to Hague and then south on 9N along the less-traveled
northern shore of Lake George, a route new to us. We wended our way along the unfamiliar hills
and curves, reveling in the magical serenity of seasons past, seasons present, and seasons future.
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