Reflections: Mosaic Monday
My husband wanted to go to Home Depot this afternoon for a new anode rod for the hot water heater. On the way home we stopped at Thetis Lake Park for a walk. The sun shone most of the time, and although the temperature was chilly (5C), we quickly warmed up as we walked.
I grew up in the interior of British Columbia, and knew far more about lakes than about the ocean. BC has over 20,000 lakes, of all sizes. Summer vacations were spent camping beside lakes where we swam, fished, and got sunburned. Shorter fishing trips happened summer, fall, winter, and spring. Fresh trout sizzled in a cast iron frying pan for dinner, and later we would sit around the campfire. As the fire died down and the mosquitoes turned vicious, we would retire to our tent or camper. Then, lying tucked into a warm sleeping bag, I heard the poignant cry of loons streaming like ethereal ribbons across the water, now etched forever into memory.
E.B. White, author of Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little, crafted an essay entitled "Once More to the Lake" in which he writes, "I have since become a salt-water man, but sometimes in summer there are days when the restlessness of the tides and the fearful cold of the sea water and the incessant wind which blows across the afternoon and into the evening make me wish for the placidity of a lake in the woods."
In my adult life, I, too, have had more to do with salt water than with fresh. Yet today's walk brought back so many memories of lakes, of childhood, of family times when I was young. What caught my eye today were the reflections in the placid water, only slightly distorted. Reflections of the past today were equally clear and lovely.