Dog crap lake (Fetch Avenue SW)
Writing in Augmented Space
< Play audio
Script
As you drive down that gravel road, you’ll hit another ordinary looking lake. [sfx: traffic noise] Pull in past that boat landing until you hit that parking lot nestled back in that patch of trees. See that swimming area off to the left? Park your car and take a walk down there.
Make your way through the grass leading up to the lake in front of you until you hit that patch of sand down there. Have a seat on this makeshift beach. But be careful. Don’t step or sit in any dog crap, this lake is called Dog Lake, and I’m pretty sure it got its name from all the dogs that leave their businesses in this sand.
As you gaze at that lake while sitting in the sand, listen to the ripples of the water. [sfx: water splashing on the shore] Run the sand through your fingers. This is where I spent many summer evenings with my brother and dad, swimming in the muck-filled lake in front of you. The water may look clean, but the bottom is completely covered with weeds.
We’d drive up that old dirt road behind you and run past that wooden fence, through the sand you’re sitting in, and jump in the water [sfx: splash], our feet brushing against the weeds as we swam.
Then it was out with the floaties. My dad brought my blue floatie and my brother’s green one down to the water, and we’d use them to swim. When my dad thought we’d swam out far enough, about midway between the shore and that tan shed on the other side of the lake, he’d yell at us to make our way back in again. My wet feet left imprints in that sand as I reached for my Pocahontas beach towel, sitting on that bench. See it? Over your left shoulder? As I grabbed my towel, I could hear my dad starting the truck. [sfx: sound of a loud truck in background]
I ran ahead to catch up to my brother, maneuvering my way through all the dog crap. As we piled into the truck and pulled away, back down that dirt road, we chatted about how many fish we’d caught that night.
That beach where you are sitting didn’t just bring me entertainment as a child. It’s where I built relationships with my family and made childhood memories. I didn’t need to go to a movie theatre or mall to be content. I was satisfied with the country atmosphere and spending time with those I love.
Dodge your way through the dog crap, back to your car and make your way out of the landing area. [sfx: traffic noise] Head back around some old dirt roads and back into town. Did you find contentment in a boring old tour of a little farming town? Did you make the boring places in this town into something worth remembering, something that means more than what’s seen on the surface? Life is a whole lot more enjoyable when you find contentment with what you have and the circumstances at hand.