The Lake by which I Live

This is a bit of writing by my daughter, Chena. I found it and asked her if I could please have it. It makes me long for summer. It makes me proud and happy that she loves where she lives. And, of course as her writing teacher it makes me feel like I'm doing my job! She loves to write, and finds a way to express how she feels, quite beautifully.

I'm strolling through the woods one sunny afternoon and as I walk around a
bend in the trail a large, sparkling, calm, peaceful lake comes into view. I stand
awstruck at the beauty of the scene before me. Even though I've seen this sight
so many times before, the lake by which I live never stops taking my breath away,
no matter much I stare at that water I will always stop to admire it. Across the lake lies a shoreline green with fresh cut grass. Here minnows
dart beetween rocks and in and out of weeds by the land. Leaches slowly drift
around in the water, looking for something to eat.Snails grip on tightly to rocks.
I lay down on the grass on my stomach and stare down to that underwater
world.All around the lake there are tall, towering trees and small, fresh saplings.
In the summer, they are full with delicate, green leaves. And in the winter they have bare branches
laden with snow and ice. I go out in a boat and watch the whirlpools swirling
along behind the paddles, dancing and fading away into ripples. Loons paddle
around on the surface, looking for fish below. Then they dive to catch the food they seek. Swans with their long, white, graceful necks float around the lake in
pairs, trying to spot a place to nest. Soon another smaller shape will be tagging
along behind. Muskrats are sneaking along the bank, and sometimes burrowing in.
But then they will slip back out and start looking for freshwater clams to munch.
Beavers hurrying everywhere, are a common sight at this lake. Constantly
searching logs, and sticks, they're busy all day long.For the lodge must be
ready for winter, because it will be the only thing to keep him through the long,
cold winter months.
I come back to shore and stretch out on the grass once more. The afternoon sun warming my face, a cool, sweet-scented breaze playing with my hair, and
birds trilling out lovely notes, trying to lure me into sleep, prove too much for
my heavy eyelids, and I drift off into a sleep full of wonderful dreams.
When I wake up the setting sun is throwing beautifull shades of pink, purple,
and orange, which reflect on to the still waters of the lake. I stand and trudge
up the hill to the house. But I know that in the morning I will look out and see my
lake again, sparkling in the pale morning light.
- Chena Litzen age 11