|Mimosa Lake after the rain. June 22nd, 2011. |
The view from my sister's back yard.
It seems like most people I meet from South Jersey have a story about Medford, or Medford Lakes. My father in law remembers swimming clear across one of the larger lakes years ago, and my own father swam here as a boy as well, as the picture of him and his father, the grandfather I never met, attests to. My grandmother, Nana, the Grace Elizabeth that my daughter is named after (though my grandmother went by "Betty"), used to be a camp counselor on these lakes during the summer. Once she told me a story about a huge thunderstorm in the middle of the night, and how she had to run out in the rain to secure the tent. She still remembered the feeling of the rain soaking through to her skin, the lightning illuminating the night sky, more than 60 years later.
|Grace, Emma, Eddie, and Genevieve.|
After an hour or so we came in for a pizza dinner on the screened porch, and then pajamas were put on for the long ride home. Summer is here, and though it can't last forever, I'm looking forward to the afternoons of swimming, the morning bike rides, the evenings catching fireflies, and the overall unhurried pace of life unscheduled that it provides.