My place in time #47 - I wish this place had never changed
This has not so much to do with actual water, but the lack of it.
We took the go-kart down to Lake George over the weekend. Loads and loads of flat space to ride it.
When I was a kid, my uncle, his name just happens to be George, had a shack on the edge of this lake. I remember it so well. It was simple and crude. A set of bunks and an old wood stove, a table and chairs, and that was it.
There was water lapping not far away, and I remember wading out into it. There used to be fish, so many fish.
The shack is long gone, due to vandals, and so is the water. What remains is salty shell grit.
In the distance I could see what could be water. But no, a mirage. Even the tree line reflects into the mirage, just as it would do on water. Weird. No wonder so many thirsty wanderers have been fooled on their quest for water.
