It had been a rainy summer day on the lake;
sprinkling rain, down pouring rain and even thunder. Great day for a roaring wood fire, and we
did that. Great day for board games, and
we did that, too. At bedtime, the clouds
had still not dissipated. Frank called
me down to the lake; I had to see it, he said.
He was right.
The thick gray and shadowy clouds at 9:00 p.m.
hovered just over my head as I stood on the dock. I had never heard silence so deep. Does silence have a sound? It did.
It was like a humming; the silence had its own distinct and unique
humming sound. “This silence is
deafening,” is all I could think. “The
sounds of silence” from a Paul Simon song were instantly grasped.
An occasional frog croaked in the distance. We saw the lights from one camp…one camp on
the entire lake. It felt surreal, other
worldly to be so alone and so quiet. And
yet, just three hours north of Portland, we were completely alone, surrounded
by the depth of nature, only animals and weather. So close, and yet further away than I’d ever
been.
Photo: Loon Lake, Rangeley, ME
