Arcadia Lake was surprisingly quiet last week. Elle and I headed out there for a swim on a Thursday, in the middle of the day, expecting to find a crowd of kids being entertained until school starts back up in two weeks. What we got instead was a near-empty beach and a genuinely peaceful afternoon. No complaints here.
It’s funny how different the landscape is from what she and I are used to. As recently as three weeks ago, all of us were playing at the beach in North Florida. There, the ocean floor is soft, the sand is its usual neutral tone, and the waves are tall enough and strong enough to knock me on my keester. Here, at Arcadia, the lake floor is rocky, the sand is red and pebbled in places, and the waves come only after a lone speedboat makes a harrowingly sharp turn near the designated swimming space.
The sound of crashing waves is the same, though, no matter where I am.