Dusk, Amos, ender

Every Labor Day since we've had the opportunity to spend summer days and evenings at a wonderful beach at the end of Amos Lake, I spend the final time delighting in the swimming and thinking about how to capture the end with my camera. No matter what the weather, and we've had everything from autumn chill to steady rain to today's splendid warmth and sunshine, I go in for a swim. That tradition continued, even though the anti-Lyme antibiotics have made me more susceptible to shivering than usual. It took a while to get completely immersed, but finally, I was off to the buoys to do some laps and search the floats for damselflies. Then, closer to shore, I dunked down, my middle grandson Ezra balanced on my shoulders to be rocketed upwards, a breach of the rules but a misdemeanor we chance when we're pretty sure no one is looking. When I finished savoring what I was sure would be my last paddle this year at the lake—I may still get in a swim in the ocean—I dried off and started to say my goodbyes to old friends. This included giving thanks to the folks who owned and managed the club, and helped enhance our lives so much. The sun dropped below the tree line. Dusk arrived. The tree crickets began to chorus. It was time to put away this part of summer, and by morning, even the swings and the beach sign would be in storage.