When I was just a wee lad I would traipse into the forestry that bled into my neighborhood, listen to birds tweet, watch a doe frolic surreptitiously. They were good times, they were the best times.
But sardonic introduction aside, I really like Lake Needwood. That’s the the woods that bordered my neighborhood. When I was kid I would walk from my house to the pathways along the lake almost everyday with my mother and sister. I’ve seen in it in every season and every time of day.
Leaving suburban blocking of houses and cul de sac’s, you reach what is referred to as a “common area” which means field by a bunch of houses. From there you follow this field into more and more trees. Take right once your left is consumed by a golf course, and go deeper into the trees. Then you begin to reach very slope-like unleveled forestry, rising and falling between paths and creeks, until it opens up to a lake. When you get there you’re at the highest point that surrounds the lake, because it’s clearly a man-made dam of some kind. There’s a large concrete chunk rising out of the water. The lake proceeds on for some miles surrounded by trees and paths. On one side there’s a picnic area where you can rent paddleboat in the summer but no one does that because it’s stupid, you should just take a walk. That’s what my mother, sister, and I all agree upon anyways.
I’ve done this walk hundreds of times before. I still do it every time I’m home because it meets that very minimal requirement of what can be called a group activity, and my family absolutely needs excuses like that. When we’re inside we all hide in separate rooms and read. When I was kid there was a lot of masterpiece classic on, and I can only assume that was informative in this “take a walk” mentality. Read, walk, read, walk. Damn Romantics.
