The late summer sun turns the lake into a fire. In the distance I can hear the crickets chirping. A lonely bullfrog sings out in his booming bass voice as the night birds add a chorus of songs and the nightly concert begins. There’s the occasional splash of a fish leaping from the water to catch an insect that flew too close to the surface of the lake. The smell of the fire drifts in as kids roast their marshmallows on freshly cut poplar or birch twigs. I’ll ease back in my chair and take a sip of coffee. The flavor mixes well with the oak in the fire pit. As the sunset fades into the velvety sky the fire in the lake is replaced by silver. Throughout the campground the voices of the people begins to soften. Some campers are already asleep with expectations of being out on the water before the dawn. Scuba divers have told stories about catfish large enough to swallow a human being and each fisherman is convinced that they have the secret to hauling it in. Other campers are setting close to the red glow from the embers of the fire. They’re telling ghost stories about the civil war soldiers who once camped in that very same spot. As I finish my coffee I look out across the campground. Tents glow from the lanterns inside. They look like little hot air balloons preparing for take off. Silhouetted against outside of tents the shadows move on the inside as they turn in for the night. A few of them seem to merge as the lanterns go out one by one. I’m not sleepy. I pour the last of the coffee into my tumbler and stir the embers of my fire. The sparks rise into the air. As I watch the sparks rise and disappear I notice little greenish lights flickering in trees. The fireflies are putting on a light show if their own as the males signal for a mate to answer with the matching code. My tired eyes drift from the trees to the stars above. The coffee is gone and the fire is almost out. It’s time to take in one last breath of the night air as the dew falls. I crawl into my tent and sleep deeply. That’s camping on Summerville Lake.
Tag: natural sanctuary
The Art Of Getting Lost
Feature image take on the shore of the Gauley River in Fayette County West Virginia.
I grew up watching reruns of Gilligan’s Island. In reality being shipwrecked would be a horrible experience no matter how pretty Ginger and Maryann are.
But the idea of being in a place where the outside world can’t find you can be appealing at times. The mountains of Appalachia are full of little trails with plenty of hidden spots where one can build a fort and find peace and quiet. I had two spots in the woods where I grew up. One on a cliff overhang and another in the valley below. A small wet weather stream was in the lower spot. Surrounded by small trees with a large rock on the edge. An opening in the canopy of trees would allow just the right amount sunlight to warm up the rock. It was perfect for a young boy to climb onto and stretch out like a lizard in the Sun. As the water ran by the rock we would make little boats out of leaves and race them downstream. In those days there was no cellphones to break the silence and end the adventure. You could have the whole world to yourself for just a little while.
Nobody wants to be lost in a forest unable to see the way home.
Image was taken in Kanawha County West Virginia on private land.
However, occasionally being able to remain “unfound” for a day can be nice.
Image above taken in Beartown State Park
Saturday Morning Sunrise
There are few pleasures of life that are better than greeting the sunrise. The crisp mountain air fills my lungs as the golden light washes over me. It makes me feel energized. The rest of the world fades into the background. My whole world at this moment consists of nothing but the three rivers which join at this point, the mountains in distance and the morning sun. I will hold this moment in my spirit for the rest of the day. The Shawnee say that it’s bad luck to make camp where three rivers join but I respectfully disagree. This place is blessed by God. Today will be a good day. I take one last deep breath and climb back into my truck. I only have a moment to enjoy the view but the moment will be all I need.
Image taken in Gauley Bridge West Virginia on February 3rd 2018 on my way to my day job.
Little Blessings pt 2
Yesterday I wrote about finding little blessings I notice when I am able to wander off the beaten path. Sometimes the little blessings wander out to find you. This little fawn would come into my dad’s yard and bed down every day a couple of years ago. I don’t own a lens any larger than 300 mm so that means I have to get close. For this little guy that meant slowly stepping out into the yard and allowing him to think that he was well hidden in the grass. It seemed to take forever to gain his confidence as I stretched out in the grass near to him and pretended to be ready for a nap myself. The trick is to make it seem natural to be there. Moving cautiously but trying not to look like a stalker. Whitetail deer communicate with tail movements. Most people know that a raised tail means danger but few know that a low quick wagging if a deer’s tail means that all is well. Learning what tale the tail is telling takes a little practice. Using my flattened hand to mimic a mother doe at ease and crawling around like I was grazing eventually paid off as the fawn began to relax. I followed suit and laid down fully about twenty feet (approximately 6 meters) away. I purposely began to breathe slowly and rhythmically as if falling asleep. The little fawn curled up and soon he was in dream land. I hope to get more wildlife photography to share with you as time goes on. My mountains hold many such little blessings.
Daydreaming of Summer
I can’t believe it’s still Winter. Well, more to the point, I don’t want to believe it’s still Winter. I’ve had enough of gray skies, muddy roads, cold and damp. I want to see green grass, blue skies and life everywhere I look. I miss the butterflies and honeybees that fill my yard. Warm weather brings songbirds to my mountain. I know each one of them by their voices. Some of them have returned every year to live in the brambles in the edge of my yard.
The Ironweed in the photo is a late summer flower. It emerges during the warmest part of the year.
Today I’m hiding from ice and snow but in my heart it’s still Summer.
LLOYD'S LENS PHOTOGRAPHY LLC 