Sock Rock

Three short stories from my childhood living in a cabin beside a lake and the adventures that I had.

             “Come on, let’s go for a walk.” My dad said, one late afternoon his hazel eyes bright with mischief.
 

      “But isn’t it too late?” I questioned, standing anyway. We walked together, dry brown pine needles crunching below our feet, and tree frogs singing from the trees. It was a short walk to the gigantic rock, the gray hulking mass of stone rose out of the ground. Unimpressed I promptly climbed it, ignoring the small path up, and looked over. Standing on this rock I could see over the whole lake, the brilliant hues of greens and blues that blurred together at the edges. Then there was the sunset, shades of reds, pinks, yellows, oranges, purples, and the small wisps of blue from the sky, all blended together in a way neither paint nor words could ever embody. We sat in silent awe until the colors faded and I spoke again.
 

              “I think we should call this sunset rock.”
 

             “I think that’s perfect.” He replied with a warm smile.
 

       The name stuck. Nearly ten years later, seven since I lived there, and I still tell the tale of that afternoon where my dad and I started exploring the lake. Yet like all great tales there are always more, and the first moment is the best. Every time we explored the lake, both the shore and water, there was a new discovery and new tale to be made. The next tale happened when I was a little older, somewhere between around eight or nine.
 

       “Sarah stay away from the edge.” My dad warned, as I walked on the green moss lining the edge of the lake. I, being young and defiant, ignored him.
 

       “Sarah…” his warning came again, this time his tone was sharper, telling me I was annoying him. Again I ignored him, confident that such a silly little thing couldn’t make him truly angry at me. As I moved forward I didn’t notice the darker green patches of moss, the same kind I was walking on only wet.
 

       Splash! I scrambled away from the edge, my face red with embarrassment. My dad watched, his eyes amused but his face schooled into a stern expression.
 

       “Are your feet wet?” he asked, I fervently shook my head. I wanted to keep exploring!  He looked at me one black eyebrow cocked higher on his red sun-burnt forehead, “You can’t hike with wet feet Sarah. You’ll chafe your feet and could twist your ankle easier. So are your feet wet?” he explained softly and patently like this was a school lesson. Miserably I nodded my head, he smiled gently.
 

       “All right I’ll give you two options; one we go back home for today,” he began, I was sniffling by now, afraid I’d ruined the adventure, “Or you can take off your socks and we’ll leave them here to dry and wear the spares in my pack.” As he finished I brightened, all traces of the sniffling gone.
 

       “The second one!” I all but shouted as I plopped down in the nearby solid gray rock, bits of pale green lichen moss creeping in patches on the surface. While I was absorbed in removing my wet socks, my dad covertly checked the inside of my sneakers satisfied that they would be fine he handed me the spare socks. I donned them excitedly, glancing back at the rock before we left I laughed. The two small white socks stood out starkly on the gray and green surface of the rock almost like an odd pattern if stone.
 

       “Look daddy, it’s a sock rock.” My voice healed the light timber of amusement and discovery. He laughed too, but I was egger and impatient, tugging the arm of his light, green wind breaker.
 

              “Come on.” I urged dragging out the words in the perfect whine the way only children can.
 

      The tale of sock rock is probably one of the bigger discoveries since sunset rock. Yet those two were so starkly different, that it could’ve easily been a different planet. Even by that time we hadn’t extended much into the inner recesses of the lake, the shore and open water yes, but not the hidden nooks and coves. With the purchase of our kayaks when I was ten or eleven would change that.
 

       I looked out across the shimmering blue-green water, shading my eyes against the white glare. Shifting slightly in my bright red kayak, “so people in the big boats can see you.” my dad had said, I glanced over at him. He paddled along contently, trolling a fishing line from the back of his own sand colored kayak. Sighing I looked around we weren’t that far out yet, the rock face of sunset rock was still slightly visible. It looked so small from out here, despite that I knew it was anything but. There was also the small gray point of sock rock poking out stubbornly from the bushes. Bored I turned paddled closer to the small island we were going to explore, turning into the cove my Dad became obscured by the flowing shades of green and brown. Yet he was still ‘in sight’ thus following the rule he enacted me earlier. There was a mass of brown and white twigs floating in the cove, nearly covering it. Curious I paddled closer and landed my kayak and cautiously stepped onto the dam.
 

              “Sarah!” my dad called the slight hint of worry tingeing his steady voice.
 

             “Over here.” I called back, more interested in the beaver hole.
 

              “Sarah don’t stand in your Kayak,” he reprimanded before I was completely visible.
 

              “I’m not in my Kayak.” I said, turning to catch his bewildered face.
 

      Smiling I glanced back at my kayak, making a face in distaste at the bright red, and settled back in. Pushing off I caught a glimpse of a large brown furry creature bellow the dam,
 

              “I dub this cove Beaver cove.” I said with, while feeling a sense of amazement at such a fluidly large animal.
 

      Beaver Cove was the discovery that introduced us to the final set of wonders on Lake Whitehall, but not the last. We continued to be pioneers discovering only a fraction of the beauties and secrets that such a mystical place could hold.

Author's Note

This was originally written for a college English essay (on which I got an A) and I think that its a rather fun story to share. =D