To the editor:
When things are difficult and times are dark, I try to think of my favorite summer family home on Buck Island in Lake Placid. It has a beautiful view. Across the lake you can see the mountains in the morning light. The water, a sheet of glass, breaks with the engine of a motorboat and the view becomes clearer as the sun rises, and in the early morning you can hear the chirping birds and the quacking ducks. As the lake shimmers you can see the fish swim underneath, some are big and some are small. The rainbow trout are the most fun to watch with their glittery, dazzling scales twinkling like the surface of the lake.
One of the most beautiful things of being there is that you can feel like you are on the bottom of a bowl, surrounded by mountains and hills covered by trees with almost every shade of green. Some of the most beautiful trees are called birch trees; they have white bark that is both rough and brittle. The white bark has thin horizontal strokes of dark brown lines. There is an area near the lake where there is a cluster of these trees. When you are standing between the trees you can almost hear them speak as a breeze brushes against the leaves, and as it strokes your skin, you feel as part of nature. And as the light of the sun hits and bounces of the white birch bark, it's as if the sun were talking to you as well.
I love to go hiking going up and down the irregularly narrow mountain trails, the cool breeze rises from the valley changing to a hard wind as it whistles around you when you reach the peak. The clouds form different images when you're looking up at them - from things and places to happy faces, and then they slowly move away when the wind pulls them apart. The most beautiful time to watch the clouds is either in the morning or at night; they're shades of pink that no camera can capture.
All these beautiful sights and sounds makes Lake Placid for me the most wonderful place to be. This what I remember, the lake is so quiet and peaceful when we leave, you can just see a ripple from the boat and our large red and white hundred year old house becomes smaller and smaller while you go farther and farther away. Now it's all a memory of Lake Placid and me.