I came home from school that first real fall day, dropping my books on my bed. All were new and ready for wrapping in protective covers.
My dog Mutt nosed into my room as if asking to go out, probably for a peek at the lake.
Receiving those beseeching eyes with all seriousness, I kicked off my new school sneaks.
Before my mother could ask how the first day of fifth grade went, I had pulled on a pair of worn Pro Keds and was out the door.
It was not long before Mutt and I had made our way to Limekiln Lake’s long sandy beach.
Everywhere we looked, the colors of fall were painted on the trees.
With almost no breeze, the lake water appeared to be sleeping.
We strolled down the hard packed portion of the sandy beach near the water.
Every cottage was well shuttered. Old bed sheets covered the many windows.
Each window seemed sad in a way now. It would be eight months before someone would take down these ghostly forms, letting the light of day back in.
No longer to be seen were the porches filled with life vests, children’s beach toys, coolers, and lawn furniture littered about.
Now each stood silent, distant from this warm afternoon that glowed with nature’s color.
I had to take a peek. I scampered up each small set of porch stairs. Sure enough, every one of these small summer homes was empty.
Mutt seemed to enjoy this snooping and peeking session.
We made our way from to window to window, trying for a peek.
Each porch had a different sound under my feet. Each board had its own strength and character. Some were thundering, booming, hollow-sounding, while others were squeaky and springy.
As the last of the sunshine was hovering over the mountains, we decided to get our feet wet just one last time.
Peeling off my sneaks and socks, I followed Mutt into the lake. Its surface stirred, as the day was turning to a perfect calm evening.
It was our last real peek at the lake and cottages for a while.
We would have lots of other fall adventures to take up our time.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com