Today is the still point of this year’s vacation. It is the middle Saturday in the old-time American two-week vacation.
The lake, as if in harmony, is mirror-still, reflecting sky and shoreline. There is neither ripple nor riffle. If I were Peter, I would venture to walk on this surface.
The soundtrack is all natural. A mother talking to her young child. The cicadas alternating between crescendo and diminuendo. Even the laugh of a loon off in the distance.
One day I will remember this moment as perfect.
Being human, I can only try to maintain the balance I know will eventually be lost.
Ways to follow: