Nature's Splendour

Sitting on the sunny, open waiting deck of the Snack Bar at Gull Lake Park in Gravenhurst, Muskoka! Two Butterscotch Ripple ice-cream cones are on their way. Right behind, is a sloped terrain going down into the water.

What I can see with my eyes, no camera can really record. It is the soothing sensation that is the catch of the day – the breeze caressing my skin and blowing wisps of my hair onto my face, a feeling of divine joy as I behold the pine trees so tall that the neck strains looking at the treetops.

I remember my favourite computer wallpaper that has an image of old, majestic trees with orange and red leaves, heavily lining a walking trail that is covered with fallen leaves. The picture seemed to gesture to the viewers to step on the path, crunching the leaves underneath and enjoying the shade and protection offered by the big trees on either side. Although autumn is not yet here – it is still August – and so I cannot see the colours of the image in this live vision in front of me, yet I am reminded of the splendour of nature once again.

The sky peeking out of the spaces between the tree trunks leaves no room for suspense. It is as if the natural surroundings are encouraging mortals to carry on, inspiring them with visions that make everything seem possible. The lake has an area marked for swimming, which I intend to explore one day. My fresh beginnings in the water are no longer disappointing, but are still far from being good. However, I am persisting and hope one day to be called somewhat of a swimmer.

A few minutes ago, I tried feeling the sand-and-gravel-bottomed water on the lakeshore with my feet. The coolness and texture was quite refreshing. When I was down there, I looked up to see my family waving at me, looking royal sitting at a height. A few kids are around with their families. A few elderly are sitting on the benches overlooking the waterfront at an inclined plane. The lake stretches horizontally and tapers into broad rivulets going behind thick bushes on either side. Width-wise, the lake is not too large. At the back, we do not see endless water. The border at the back is breathtaking with rocks and trees. These natural place-marks give a feel of an artificially created movie set – perfectly coloured, perfectly textured, perfectly organized and outlined – green, brown, grey, orange, beige; rocky, floral, lush, coarse and barren all at the same time; the animate and the inanimate providing a striking contrast and a wondrous effect.

Speechless

Here I am, sitting on a green wooden railing – very low and surprisingly very comfortable. It borders the parking area of the Muskoka Bay Park in Gravenhurst, Ontario. There is a big, old-fashioned bell in a little grey shed surrounded by flower beds on all sides. The white and red maple leaf flag towers over it resplendently making Canada proud. Right from where I sit, I see six houses on the other side of the road. The road is quite busy actually. In the last two minutes or so, there was only spell of ten seconds with no vehicle on the road. The houses are in the midst of canopies of luxurious trees and remind me of ‘Shimla’ – the popular summer vacation ‘hill station’ destination of Northern India. It is shocking to find this spot of glorious beauty in the middle of everything. True, everything about this town is very picturesque as it is, but this! This is like a pristine gem, untouched, uncontaminated, serene and simply gorgeous.

 

As I turn my back towards the road, I am faced with the amazing quietness of the lake, softly wrinkled in the breeze and beckoning onlookers to stay, to behold, to be calm. The sun is shining brightly on my notepad, making me see the shadow of my writing hand on the white paper. The green stretch of grassy area that separates my present perch on the railing from the lake is spangled here and there with some trees, swings, a slide, a covered sitting area and a couple of black iron benches. It is bordered by tall, lush trees on either side. The white cloudy tufts floating on the blue sky make the scene as if it were out of a painting.

 

My dad, visiting me these days from thousands of miles, is resting on a beach mat a few feet away from me, enjoying the sound of the rustling leaves and rippling waves. My husband is talking to some friends on a bench overlooking the water. I have tried sitting, lying, standing, walking in different parts of this small area, but am unable to get myself to speak. I am speechless. It seems as if I by speaking, I will break a rule – an unspoken, unmentioned rule – the rule of sanctity.