Reflections on a Late Summer's Eve

(Monday, 18 August 2008) by Michele Cozzens


It couldn’t have been more peaceful when I opted to grab my laptop and camera and head down to the lake for the rare quiet time afforded a resort owner. The sun had set in the west leaving butterscotch yellow and pink grapefruit afterglows around the puffy clouds, and the calm water of Squaw Lake looked like a reflecting pool.

And then came the teenagers barreling across the bay. Rub-a-dub-dub, three teens in a tub, who yelled at one another using every swear word they’ve ever learned. They were dismally unconscious of the mellow-harshing influence it had not only on me, but on my next door neighbors out enjoying their dock and the fishermen anchored over the sand bar just beyond our pier. All the yelling boys heard was the roar of their 9.5 hp outboard motor.

I DETEST being put in the position of Mother Superior, but I gave them a good “this is UNCOOL Dudes,” tongue-lashing . . . which was nothing compared to the one they got from their grandmother, who has been kind enough to put up with them for a week’s vacation. She heard them from her cabin, as I suspect did everyone else within a mile radius.  They’re good boys—just being boys—and if anything, tonight they learned a science lesson about how sound carries over water.


This is a beautiful place and I love it here, but I miss my husband and my children, already back in Tucson for the school year that began August 7. I’m feeling nostalgic for another season gone by too quickly without enough time to enjoy the best part about sharing this small piece of heaven with the loons and eagles, the mallards and muskies. And yes, even the resort guests with too much testosterone.

It’s time for a vacation.










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