The 2016 end, Amos

When my grandson Lucas and I left Amos Lake yesterday evening, we deliberately didn't say goodbye to everyone. True, there was this forecast that Hermine, which had lost its tropical storm cred but remained a powerhouse, might visit, but I wasn't really paying much attention; the forecasters had been wrong so often that I'd have been better served by trusting my arthritis pains... and I wasn't really hurting. We'd be heading to Amos in the afternoon for a final swim and final rounds of "see you next year." But when I picked up Luc around 5:30, the sky was gray and the wind was blowing a steady 30 knots with occasional stronger gusts. At least it was fairly warm and there wasn't any rain. While things weren't promising, my swimming buddy and I knew all too well that it was right now or wait until next year. Our little beach club would be closing for 2016 in a couple of hours, so off we went. When we got there, the last of the cars had departed, the picnic tables had been gathered together under cover, and the wind was so strong that there were white caps on the water and the sand stung when it hit your legs. Everything was shuttered, and the basketballs at the court had been stowed away for safekeeping. There was nobody to say goodbye to, and even Luc thought the better of plunging in. We bade farewell to the shore, the sign, the playground equipment, the swings that creaked in the gale, the ice cream, the barbecues, the fishing area, the bluegills, the Spotted Sandpiper, the myriad dragonflies, the digger wasps, and, lastly, the water. We put the wonderful memories in the Prius, drove down the long driveway, and headed for home... and autumn.