White Benches and Shallow Lakes: Part 2

      After the night's lively campfire, I found myself spending the next four hours playing Bananagrams with the youth. Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with the game since I decided to leave my brain by the doorstep back home. But after helping a friend win his first game, I was forcibly thrown into the mix. We called it a night when our brains turned into mush and the wins were pretty much going to one person. Remember the old friend that I mentioned before? Yes her. That aside, I wanted to hit the sheets as early as I could to do some solitary venturing at the first signs of morning. I had half of this place scoped out and accumulated many photo ideas that I wanted to put into fruition.
       The idea to wake up early was pretty much a failure. These form fitting beds mixed with the fact that I was in a room all by my lonesome made the separation of my body and the mattress close to impossible. Do I dare say? This bed was more comfortable than my own bed at home. I decided to cut my losses and sleep in for the day. Later on in the day, I went to the shoreline where I found the perfect reclining bench and laid outstretched for a while. I didn't bring the iPod but it did give the winds a reason to rustle up a tune through the use of pine needles. There I was, without a care in the world, laying under the comforting shades of a native tree and slowly drifting off to sleep. Until a little friend of mine found me.
        We went rowing in one of the most shallowest lakes I have ever had privilege to step foot in. My oar kept on scraping the floor as I was paddling and I may have just unknowingly destroyed dozens of marine communities just by rocking the boat a particular way. We went further than everyone else and yet as the distance from the shore increased there wasn't much change in the depth.
         In the middle of the lake, there was an small island that was connected by an arched bridge from its right side. It was inviting enough to demand a visit from us. I mean, who would not go and check out the mysterious island? It would only require you to walk through a good two miles or so of forest with the theme of the Chainsaw Massacre playing in the back of your mind. There were others waiting for their chance to use the canoe so we pulled the plug and headed back to land.
         After I satisfied my trigger finger with dozens of photos, I stopped to skip rocks with the the little children. I believe my highest number of skips was an impressive three. As you can tell, my touch is certainly as good as ever. I, accompanied by two friends, trekked back to the bridge that led to that small island. We faced winding paths, five legged spiders, and five inch dragonflies before we encountered a wooden lookout within the island. My two friends stayed on the bridge as I approached the structure to get a closer look. To my surprise, inhabiting this lookout were the etches and markings prior visitors wanted to leave behind for others to see. Their names, their dreams, and parting words of wisdom were all here around me. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to leave my name behind but I did leave some attempts. My keys were too blunt to make a sure indentation into the wood and could only chip away at the structure until  a  good chunk was missing from the support.
          Before we knew it the day was over and the night was pretty much spent enjoying each other's company. It was difficult to leave Manchester Township the following morning but life awaited us in the form of our friends, textbooks, and bosses. It beckoned us towards a life of unpredictability, hope, and simple joys. All of which, I believe, is not all that bad.

"The Getaway" Photos!

         The Picsio strikes again and this time nature held nothing back. I still believe that all the little aesthetic things that emotionally bound me to this place were purposely placed where I found them. The administrative personnel must have known that there were suckers, like myself, arriving so they placed things here and there to grab at our simple minds. How else can a place like this contain so much "unintended" beauty? These people, I tell you, are geniuses of manipulation. These are some photos that I look at to relive those recent yet distant memories.

I would have loved this photo even more if the damn pump wasn't in the way. Nonetheless, my mind begged my body to fetch the camera just to take its picture. There was no way I was going to leave without taking a little piece of this back with me. 

 This was one of my favorite photos of this whole trip. The clouds, the pine tree branches, and the position of the white beach chairs just worked at that precise moment. At this point, I was laying down on a reclining bench ready to catch some well needed sleep. Couldn't feel better.

While I was about to give in to the lulls of the moving pine needles above me, one of the younger youth found me. I then convinced myself to take him canoeing. In the middle of this very shallow lake there was an small island. While canoeing, motivation immediately struck. I needed to find out what was hidden by those trees. 

The shoreline wasn't the best part about this place. It's the way that nature just carved itself into generously into the area. The well, I thought, was a very tasteful addition to this photo.

You must be joking. I was very excited to take this photo that I took many of them just to get one right. 

I proved that my fearless side was still intact while taking this photo. I stepped into the thick forest-life, which was filled with life draining flies by the way, just to get this shot.

 Don't you just want to take flight right off this dock and immerse yourself into the cool water below? Bad idea, if you did that, you might just end up breaking something or injuring yourself. The lake was as shallow as your bathroom floor when your toilet is clogged. Nice little mental image for you there.

Remember that little island that I made a reference to earlier? Within its caresses there was a solitary structure waiting for me to discover it. As I walked up the steps, I slowly began to realize that I wasn't the only one to come by this place. Here, I saw the names of many people that passed by etched into the wood. I tried to scratch in my own name but my key wasn't a good enough tool to do it. But I do have a nice area of incoherence and chipped away wood in its place.

                Hmmm...Something to ponder about as I go back to my beloved beach chair. 

An unusual gateway that I believed should have been brown but I'll just let this one slide...

 "Nature paves the way for those who know where they are going." This was the quote on a poster that I have up in my room. In a sense, this is true or frankly this photo wouldn't be possible.

White Benches and Shallow Lakes: Part 1

       Hey, I'm back from a pretty sweet weekend in Manchester Township, New Jersey. Every summer, the church folk go on an outing for a night or two to strengthen their fellowship with each other. For me, it was the chance for me to get away. It was my last chance to shed life's problems and bask, uninterrupted, under the sun before the beast that is school devours my time.
       As we pulled up, my eyes were set on auto-lock to one thing, the shoreline. Filled with white benches and inviting docks, the beach was just what I needed. I pictured myself lying down on a reclining bench under the shades of a tree either reading a book or watching the treeline till my eyelids get heavy. Right away, I realized that a different type of peace inhabited this place. It wasn't the manipulated peace that I receive when I enter the confines of my room but it was a stubborn kind of peace. You have no choice but to let it surround you when it wants to.
       My life seemed to be slowing down by the minute. No more running, it just turned into a slow pace. I started to observe those around me. I haven't seen my church members in a while, some of those who I grew up with almost seem unfamiliar. My work schedule coincided with church and it used to be a problem for me. Guilt usually weighed on me every Sunday I failed to show up but not anymore. I don't feel the same way about church as I once did, something has faded.
       But there I was, in this place where the winds were unpredictable and the thunder was roaring through the sky. However, there was no sign of rain. There was a sense of secrecy within this place. I didn't know what it was trying to hide from me and what I'll be leaving with.
       To my surprise, I met a good friend who I haven't seen in a long time. So much for a quiet trip. I've known her through the years but it seems as if our relationship hasn't changed much since we were kids. We still interact with each other the same way we did in the fourth grade. Through my Sunday School years, I believed that she was the smartest girl I knew. She wouldn't come some Sundays but I do remember being happy when she did. Now, she can't stop making fun of me. It's amusing actually.
        As we got further into the night, the darker and heavier clouds started to bully the worn out sun behind them. A campfire was lit, the marshmallow bag was ripped open, and the festivities started. I'll let you in on a small tradition that we do when standing around a campfire. The parents tending the campfire will actually cook with its flames. They place plantains and yams within the smoldering wood and set it there until they are warm and soft. All this is totally normal to us and I personally love it.
        The winds were unpredictable that night and there was a slight drizzle. They started to carry the smoke and vapor straight into my eyes causing them to sting and well up. Getting the point, I then walked toward the shoreline where I entered into a conversation of reminiscence and memories. Sometimes, to reignite latent friendships one has poke at memories that reside in the stuffing in your brain, somewhere in there. Pop the right one and you won't stop laughing until morning. A good laugh is all it takes to wake up a sleeping relationship.