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|NC-2- The Lake (standard:other, 986 words)|
|Author: kathyg||Added: Jun 13 2005||Views/Reads: 2060/1155||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A lake is a gift from nature, do not take its gifts for granted, for one day if pushed too far will turn around on you.|
A lone canoe cuts the surface of the water with gentle oars in this early morning hour. The dawn awakens the lake with its twinkling rays. Kyle and Henry are paddling along the lake this early morning. The haunting sound of the loons lingers in the air and pine trees decorate the shores along with colorful boats and wharfs and cottages. It is summertime along the lake in Maine. It is a time of vacations, visitors and all the things that make summer sparkle. The canoe is going nowhere in particular, just meandering here and there along the pretty lake. "Don't you just love it out here when it's so quiet you can hear silence itself?", Kyle says quietly. "Yes, the early morning hours just after dawn are best. I adore watching the shoreline, I always have. I never get tired of looking at the pretty cottages." , Henry smiles. Both men nod and paddle onward along the lake. "I like the style of the Cape Cod cottages that dot the shores of this lake.", the man comments as he paddles close to the shoreline. "They are so distinctive for this area of the country. It seems that everywhere you go you can tell where you are by the architecture. These pretty little summer cottages are popular with the Massachusetts visitors who come like clockwork every boast of the Friday, Saturday and Sunday.", Kyle observes and they both laugh. "Look over there at the speed boats, jet skis, and whatever snacks that will sustain them for even a few hours." The two men paddle by one small beach by the highway and point out the pricy but colorful speed boats. "Look at the mess these visitors are making of this beach! Trash, dirty diapers, soda and beer cans. Come on, how hard is it to throw it in the trash can only a few feet away!", Henry shakes his head as he paddles by. "It's enough to make me cry.", Henry says softly. They paddle onward toward the center of the lake. "You know, we should think of ourselves as visitors on this fragile lake, here in Maine. A lake is a fragile environment, right?", Kyle says as he touches the water's surface. "These weekend visitors forget that a pretty lake is not something to be taken for granted. It can be gone in a heartbeat.", Henry observes. "I know. I know.", Kyle shakes his head as he points to the oil on the top of the water floating by the marine gas station. "The lake remembers who is good to its shores and who isn't. The seasons take care of most of its trespassers and cleanse itself of the season before but when the lake becomes overwhelmed with the cast offs from careless vacationers, it seems to take its own sort of revenge in the innocent life that inhabits its waters. It is a shame to see such waste that can be prevented by just being careful and picking up after yourself. Carelessness result in so much needless death and pollution. The fish die off, bird fall into oil and suffocate in a cruel manner; soapsuds from detergent residue on the shores pollute the lake waters.", the two men take a net and scoop up a dead bird covered in motor oil. "Doesn't anyone care anymore?", Henry says, throwing his paddle into the canoe. "The lake can only do so much to cleanse itself but we have to care or have this beauty gone forever!", Kyle replies. "Weather alone can be fickle and can toss her wrath at any moment. Vacationers are a rare breed. Arrogant, loud and proud. These are determined to take back Maine as it was once there very own "Massachusetts Bay Colony". With the attitude of brash loudness they transform this quiet lakeside community into a Mardi Gras of sorts. Click here to read the rest of this story (44 more lines)
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