{"id":9048,"date":"2013-06-25T09:02:53","date_gmt":"2013-06-25T13:02:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/?p=9048"},"modified":"2013-06-25T09:11:57","modified_gmt":"2013-06-25T13:11:57","slug":"the-tree-the-rock-the-boys","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/2013\/06\/25\/the-tree-the-rock-the-boys\/","title":{"rendered":"The tree, the rock, the boys"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_9049\" style=\"width: 310px\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\"><a href=\"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/files\/2013\/06\/denzel-and-nicholas.jpg\"><img aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-9049\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-9049\" alt=\"Denzel and Nicholas in their river otter phase.  (Photo:  Susan Waters)\" src=\"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/files\/2013\/06\/denzel-and-nicholas-300x225.jpg\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" srcset=\"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/files\/2013\/06\/denzel-and-nicholas-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/files\/2013\/06\/denzel-and-nicholas-150x112.jpg 150w, https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/files\/2013\/06\/denzel-and-nicholas-450x337.jpg 450w, https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/files\/2013\/06\/denzel-and-nicholas.jpg 1600w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-9049\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Denzel and Nicholas in their river otter phase. (Photo: Susan Waters)<\/p><\/div>\n<p>This week, I took my son Nicholas and one of his friends, Denzel, to a swimming rock near our home in Saranac Lake.<\/p>\n<p>It was a beautiful, languid late-afternoon.\u00a0 The lake was empty.\u00a0 We plunged in and bobbed around, washing away the day&#8217;s stickiness.<\/p>\n<p>When I first came to the Adirondacks, the rock where we swam had a proud, sweeping white pine arcing over the water.<\/p>\n<p>People sometimes rigged a rope swing in its branches and the three of us would flail out into the sky before crashing down into the cold.<\/p>\n<p>Some years ago, a storm up-ended the pine, tipping it violently into the lake.<\/p>\n<p>For a time, the swimming hole was a mess of mud and tangled roots and branches.<\/p>\n<p>All those rough edges have been smoothed away with time.\u00a0 The thick trunk of the tree lies wedged next to the rock, burnished by seasons of wind, rain, snow and ice.\u00a0 The rock is clear.<\/p>\n<p>The boys, too, have changed over the years that I&#8217;ve been bringing them to this place.\u00a0 They were tiny river otters once, spry and delight-filled.<\/p>\n<p>Now they are twenty- and seventeen-years-old, respectively.\u00a0 They are both young men, both taller than me, remarkably self-aware, filled now with the more complicated delight of their expanding worlds.<\/p>\n<p>This is, I think, what I have loved most about spending these years in the Adirondacks.\u00a0 A new awareness of time, of places and people who are the same and profoundly different from one season to the next, sometimes from one hour of day to the next.<\/p>\n<p>Bobbing in the water, I took real pleasure in measuring my own passage against this spot.\u00a0 I was a boy once, right?\u00a0 And then I was a young man, a young father.<\/p>\n<p>It may sound melancholy, but I also found myself relating to that grand, powerful tree.\u00a0 Even such a creature as that is reduced by time, reshaped.\u00a0 Eventually, it will vanish entirely, merging back into the lake, into the air.<\/p>\n<p>And so, of course, will I.\u00a0 Strange, isn&#8217;t it, to think that even the rock itself is making this journey with us?<\/p>\n<p>It too has changed imperceptibly, smoothed and worn away just a tiny fraction by the bare feet of those boys leaping into cool water.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This week, I took my son Nicholas and one of his friends, Denzel, to a [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9048"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/12"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9048"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9048\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9051,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9048\/revisions\/9051"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9048"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9048"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/inbox\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9048"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}