1.4 Writing: Now and Then

Summer

The boat glides, slicing through the flat shimmering surface and finally I hear the crunch of the gravel as it makes contact with the shore. We clamber off the front and sit down on the light grey, dry stones, baked from the heat. I smile warmly to myself and glance down the crowded, busy, beach. People, stretched down as far as my eyes can see, littered underneath umbrellas, canopies and in the water, trying their hardest to cool themselves off. Dogs leap and bound into the lake, after sticks their owners have thrown. People glide across the top of mirror further out, testing their balance on stand up paddle boards. Others sail through it, towed behind boats, riding skis, biscuits, knee boards or wakeboards.

Everything is relatively calm here this time of year. You occasionally hear the crash of a small wave, rev of a motor or a cheer from the distance. Calming, soothing, relaxing. No wind trying to knock you off your feet. No leaves hanging on for dear life. It’s peaceful.

My eyes skim the water, and I follow the blue path up to the towering mountains. I notice the dry, blond hills have been sindged brown by the heat of the beating sun. Towering, they hug the lake like a protective barrier from all sides, forming a crater. Mixes of cyan, iris, turquoise, shamrock and sea green all mixed into one big crystal pool. I peel on my wetsuit and bound into the water, making it ripple, breaking its beautiful flat surface. Coming up for air and hover with my shoulders just underneath, looking around.

The clear blue sky mirrors the lake without having the same mysterious, dark depth. With no clouds to hide behind, the sun beats down onto everyone with no mercy. Now and again you hear a cheer, as someone gets up on the skis for the first time or someone finally gets thrown off the biscuit.

So many accomplishments, victories, happy moments.

Winter

I find myself trudging down the stoney bank until getting around a meter away from the angry waves. FlickING my legs up and down, trying to get rid of the the grains of rock in-between my thick fluffy socks and my scuffs. After sitting down onto the grey, lifeless stones, I grip my knees tightly. Turning my head, I look left and right, scanning the deserted, empty beach. In the distance, two kite surfers, rise and fall with the wind, gliding and slicing through the waves.

Never silence around here, this time of year: always foamy waves crashing, wind whistling, trees shaking. Nothings never still.

Dark grey clouds rumbling, floating by, promising rain. The wind begins to blow harder, growing more angry and aggressive by the minute. I pulled my hoodie up tightly over my ears, trying to shield myself from the cold, icy feeling. The chilly air whistled past at high speeds, slicing right through me like a knife through butter. Goosebumps pricked up all over my skin and a shiver goes down my spine. I shuffle around on top of the stones and hug my knees a bit tighter, trying to subdue the amount of cold that was finding its way into every opening of my hoodie.

The waves catch my eye. So angry they’re churning up the gravel into grit. They swirl about and chew up the sticks before spitting them back out into the shore. Where they’ll sit, waiting patiently until tomorrow. I glance past the crashing waves, looking up to the mountains. They’re a the luscious green colour dusted with a thin sprinkling of snow. The tips of them surrounded by clouds of mist. The sun that used to warmly welcome me has disappeared behind the still, dull clouds.

I sit there on the beach, by myself, shivering, thinking how cold it would be in the water right now. I felt a drop of water fall onto my cheek from the skys abyss, as the clouds begin to slowly empty their contents. Standing up, I trudge my way up the stoney hill to head home, and wait for summer to arrive.