I search for the turtles like a child. I bring the children with me. Up and down the pier, we peer upon the water for their little heads or glistening backs. We then adjust our vision to see into the water. We gaze into the mossy depths of summer lake mysteries. Camouflaged by algae and leaves and sticks, the turtles sit. When we finally discern their presence, it’s a whisper and a pointing, a kneeling closer and a gasp. We net the smallest one for quick observation and release.
All day long, they are here but rarely seen. I love those things always about us that we see only when adjusting our vision, probing the murky depths, and waiting to see.