A Quaint dream: Words and thoughts, passages of prose, like a faint passing dream from my recent trip. Part Fifteen.

I found the image that goes with this section of text by surprise butttttttttttttt I won’t post it today.  I want you to imagine it first, then when you see it tomorrow, I wonder, will you think the same?



…I look out at the lake that’s a part of the view at the campsite.  When its low tide and the sun is out, the sand glimmers beneath the water from the sea.  Bars and islands of sand rise out of the water and the children are swimming and playing treasure island.  It’s a sparkling spectacular, full of light, full of warmth and job and fun.  I feel like I want to be a part of it too.  Tempted I am to grab my kayak and paddle about in the shallow water.  But I prefer to look.  I prefer to devour.  I want to see this strange and common beauty.  I want to see the heat of the day shimmer on the surface of the water, send ripples across the lake and toss sand in the air. 

And then the moment passes with a few hours.  The water rises, consuming the sand once again.  It hides the bars and islands like a golden story of atlantis.  I watch the golden domes that had been so clear below the surface of the water fade away into a water depth.  The children retreat and the tinnies roar to life.  One by one the moorings empty and one by one wet footprints appear. And the lake is filled with fishermen, clad in yellow lifejackets, and caps of all kinds, their rods, a fine stick in the air.   The sight is classic. 

But as the sunsets, and the orange light of the evening spreads across the campsite, the water, at high tide, has become a lake of gold.  I am in awe, at the beautiful colour.  It’s pale and light, just like the colour of fading hot day.  The sea breeze is chill and the water is calm.  The tinnies return and the neighbours talk.  But it’s the setting sun and the golden lake that’s the most amazing.  A once in a lifetime.  The cycle will happen again tomorrow, but there is only one kind of sunset like this one.  Only one time I’ll ever see this kind of shade.  Only one.

But it’s beautiful…


One thought on “A Quaint dream: Words and thoughts, passages of prose, like a faint passing dream from my recent trip. Part Fifteen.

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