In the center of everything is a man-made bench inscribed with the words “Gift of Robert J and Bettina S Lumpkin” which is firmly attached to a slab constructed of brick. On top of the bench is me, who is facing the lake.
The time is 5:00 o’clock PM. The trees across from me cast shadows onto the lake, covering less than half of the surface. In the shadow of the trees are ducks, there are more ducks than I’ve ever seen on the Westhampton Lake. They float across the rippling water in harmony with the geese.
Cicadas boast their presence with constant buzzing.
Directly in front of my feet is 3 yards of sand. I see small unimposing, hardly noticeable blades of grass and two short trees flanking me. The height of the trees are unimpressive, they look sturdy but not invasive, and a few thin roots breach the soil. Their branches reach out into the lake, they do not droop but instead stretch firmly out into the sunshine giving as much opportunity as they can for their small leaves to catch sunlight. Their leaves are wimpy and small, a few of them have already given into the new season and begun to change to shades of orange and yellow. Their existence silently beside the bench creates an immobile company of three.
The bank dividing the sand and the lake is created by small jagged rocks about the size of my head or the size an incredibly handsome bowling ball. On top of the rocks are ducks, geese, and dragonflies. Most of the flock look for residence on the shady parts of the lake but in front of me the shade ends at the bank, so there are few ducks in front of me. The sunlight flashes off of the blue exoskeleton of numerous dragonflies and the gentle ripples disturbing the water. The full exposure to sunlight exposes none of the contents of the lake, the water is brown and murky. I can only see a few small fish dart between the rocks next to the bank.
Where the water meets land across the lake looks similar to where I am sitting. The trees droop downwards as though they are falling into the lake. None of the trees I see grow straight upwards, they grow informally at different angles. My eyes continue upwards until I see a walking path. Above the walking path is a thick growth of trees and shrubbery. Trees on the East Coast grow thin but strong, the resulting forests are crowded and dense. The trees are green and full of life.
The cicadas have been replaced by crickets.
Isn’t it incredible how much green there is around the lake and the rest of our campus, but when you look from above its hard to see any??