A lot has changed since my last visit to my reflection spot.
Visually, there is less of everything. Leaves no longer inhabit trees, instead they rest upon the ground. A few ducks paddle around the lake either in pairs or alone. There are few people surrounding the lake, some brave joggers and various students.
The sun had fallen behind the forest across from me. The sunlight could weave its way through the thin tree trunks, unopposed by leaves. The forest is no longer vibrant with orange and red colors. Its colors are now a mix of different shades of brown and dark orange. Where the sky meets the trees is no longer crisp like it had been all year, the line is blurred by short and thin twigs jutting off branches. The forest floor is covered with crispy dead leaves. Trees that once hung over the lake, no longer droop. Without leaves they look less imposing as they awkwardly jut out of the bank.
The Westhampton Lake had risen since my last visit. The lakebed is no longer exposed and the gentle ripples across the water meet the bank.
One thing had not changed since my first reflection. The conservation buffer directly in front of my feet was barren. All year the ground there must be lifeless and dry, littered with dead leaves, exposed roots and cigarette butts.
I have enjoyed peacefully reflecting next to the Westhampton Lake. Sitting by the lake is refreshing because every experience has something new and something familiar. Returning to my reflection spot I look for the differences to chronicle the effects of time on nature. Overtime my search for differences has made me very familiar with the area and I feel a unique bond with the Westhampton Lake. My reflection spot made me feel connected to the area rather than a visitor passing through.
