It was the fiery leaves

Reflecting-leavesIt was the fiery leaves above the lake I remember the most from that summer.  Tom and Louise swam all summer in the lake, but I didn’t like to swim.  The lake had gooey mud beneath the water that I couldn’t get used to.  “Swim out to the dock!” they would call.  “You won’t get your feet muddy if you swim right out here!”  But I could never get over the feeling of the slick mud on the bottom of my feet as I stood in the shallows.

Instead I floated on a borrowed inner tube, bobbing on the surface of the water below the leaves of the maples that overhung the shore.  The fishes and I enjoyed the cool shade under the trees.  When the sun was nearly setting, the leaves turned golden.

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