As I gazed out at the murky water, my eyes caught a glimpse of the reflection of the Autumn-colored trees, rippling in the lake.  Under a bluish-gray sky, the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, making for a muggy day.
The cool morning rain had ceased, inviting the pesky bugs to join me by the somber lake.  The disrupting motorboat drowned out the violin-like chirping of the crickets, and the violent buzzing of the bees.  As I drifted through the wooded area, the rustling leaves and grass tickled my ankles, reminding me vividly of sunrise hikes through the dew-ridden woods of my childhood backyard.  I was abruptly brought back to reality when I stumbled upon a semi-refurbished houseboat, occupied by forest creatures.  The historical houseboat flooded me with a sense of curiosity about its origin.  The smell of the cedar complimented the crisp air, making up for the eye sore of the rusting, unoccupied pontoon boat propped on a tree stump.  I stepped away from the eye sore and perched on a nearby rock, before I headed back to the realities of camp.