If I go to the lake without a camera, I see with more clarity, filing pictures in my mind that I can’t share, but capturing everything with crisp lucidity.
The clear blue expanse above, wrapping my shoulders in the afternoon kiss of winter sun. Endless glassy depths, smooth and tranquil in their watery glory.
The flooded gum reflected in rising waters, encircling a majestic trunk. Seedlings marching toward inundation at the lake’s edge. Girding their roots to withstand the long dry summer, only a memory in these chilled and waterlogged months.
The click and chatter of random frogs, interloping on their diurnal neighbours, waiting for sundown to fully awake a crescendo of song.
A swan’s black arch repeated in reverse of graceful symmetry, gliding smooth and imperceptible. A whistling kite grazing silent loops on a current far from the water’s opaque lacquer.
My brain remembers this idyll by noticing more, a wide vista of serenity.
These photos were taken another day under cloudy skies, but when the water was as glassy smooth.