That lake sure looks pretty, I thought. You must park and pull out the iPhone 6 to share this October sight with the world.
My trip some 35 miles southwest from Syracuse for my weekly WAER community blog column last week took me through Skaneateles, a quaint, pretty village of note. The folks that live their have a lake, deep and pure and the second easternmost of the 11 that are considered part of the Finger Lakes bundle. Syracuse pipes in drinking water from Skaneateles Lake. Pure.
Big and expensive houses ring it on the shores, built on precious land. In fact, my great friend Dave and his mother Jude have held on to a piece of shoreline property, without a house but in prime position for parties and relaxation. One July Fourth, as my dear wife Karen and I parked for their holiday bash in my Hyundai Elantra, I heard a voice calling out from a pretty yard. It sounded familiar, asking me if I liked my car. When the man popped out and approached, I recognized Billy Fucillo, owner of the Syracuse dealership where I’d bought that car, as well as a handful of other franchises. He’s a regular on his own TV commercials, known for his loud and proud pronunciation of his one-word description of the deals you can find at his joints. Huge. Yes, that house of his looked like plenty of folks besides me have taken him up on his offers.
That’s the neighborhood.
But officials also have a pretty stretch of land for a park right in the middle of the village. So I parked, fed the meter, and took in the aura.
I paid my respects to the military people who’d served for our country, rubbing the walls of honor.
It’s a seriously significant memorial.
Then I walked east, toward the pier that extends over the lake.
The walk out to the end was peaceful. Me, seagulls …
… and a lone fisherman at the very end of the pier. Asked if he’d caught anything, a head shake to the negative was his only reply.
I took the hint and asked nothing more.
Hover over any gallery photo for a description. Click on the bottom right photo in any gallery for an enlarged slide show.
Instead, I retreated a few steps and took photos. The birds were way more talkative than the fisherman, noting my presence.
Retreating to my car, I felt refreshed and recharged for the final half-hour drive home.
If you’ve fished from a pier, what did you go for, and what did you catch? How would you make your peace with the band of birds? Which is your favorite photo, and why?