I was intrigued by the idea of Green Lakes State Park just by the description. The park contains two lakes, Green Lake and Round Lake, that are regarded as meromictic. I had never heard of that word before learning about this park, so that alone made it sound like a good place to go. According to the park description, "meromictic" means that the lakes' waters do not turn over in spring and fall as it does in most other lakes. Because of this, the park description boasted, the meromictic lake was much more likely to have older life residing in it than the typical lake.

     On the drive to the park, I got lots of vague impressions, the kind that you get when you're a passenger in a fast car and watching your surroundings but your mind is playing, not really caring that it's supposed to be on the job paying attention to detail. Even though we were heading towards Syracuse, most of the area was still pretty rural, farms alternating with woods, splattered with small towns here and there. I met them without knowing them.

     Once we arrived at the park, the lake that we saw, or at least parked the closest to, was Green Lake. There was an old stone structure that looked like it had at least once hosted picnics. This venerable feeling lent to the theme of visiting a natural landmark with primordial life in it. In the place and time where we began our journey, there was no other person. That would change quickly, but at that moment, seeing the sapphire lake peering through the still-bare trees of early May, you could pretend that you were an explorer from a hundred years earlier, elated at what you believed was a discovery of virgin territory.

     When we reached the lake, we were confronted with a liquid being that seemed to shimmer from a dark blue-black, to sky blue, and occasionally masquerading into a tropical blue-green. Sometimes the lake seemed to do nothing but reflect the sky above it. It was as though by masquerading itself, it could retain a mystery that would never give up its secrets. At the edges, which were the closest and easiest to observe, the tropical essence seemed most prevalent. The walk was easy and level; there was no change of elevation, and there was a concrete path circumventing the lake; an easy way to view the remnants of prehistory.

     As we walked, the carcass of dead trees littered the bottom. In the illusion of a sultry resort island, they looked like sponges and corral. I don't know if this was the primeval growth that they promoted, but the impression of my observations made it seem like I was looking at the last vestiges an antediluvial era, surviving on the brink of a major metropolis.

     Surrounding most of the lake were wooded hills. Pines and what looked like old maples, at least be a hundred years old, were in both the woods and occasionally bordering the lake. Broken bits of trees and wood lay draped at the edges of the water and its shore, like the driftwood of an old boat that had long met its grave. Yet in the bright sun, it was like a pleasant ruin in a quaint museum, rather than feeling like the morose end of something that would never be seen again.

     The sky wore a costume of a bright yet intense blue, adding to the refracting of the green that enveloped the artifacts in its deep. If you didn't know better you'd think that you'd just met a coral reef. There were sand bars that looked like limestone that bounced under the light wake of the water. Something foreign sliced through the otherwise pristine sky above. It was an airplane, a reminder of how close you were to "real life": only five miles from here was the city of Syracuse. Its international airport bustled its traffic back and forth regardless of what kind of delusion I wanted to play in my head.

     By the end of our tour, more people began sharing the path with us than when we first arrived. It was just after noon. Perhaps our new companions were workers spending their lunch hour walking, jogging, or sitting overlooking the enigmatic waters. We passed by a creek that dumped into the lake, a source of nourishment for the body of water. At the end of the walk, there was a beach full of people tanning and hanging out. My guess was that they were playing hooky; they looked too comfortable on beach towels and too undressed in their swimsuits to be taking a quick fifteen minute sandwich break from work. A truck dumped sand at the edge of the beach; time to prepare for the season opener on Memorial Day, only two weeks hence. That wasn't stopping anyone from enjoying it now on this summer-like day.

     I haven't said anything about Round Lake. For good reason: I didn't see it. Along the path, we had passed a dirt trail which led away from Green Lake. When we reached it, instead of taking the road less traveled and venturing up the remote path, we opted for the one well traveled and stayed on the way circumventing Green Lake. By the end of the journey, we realized we had not seen Round Lake. And nothing in our purview led us directly to it. As far as I know, the road less traveled that we passed by was the way to it. Perhaps next time; another reason to come back and explore. I've heard that Round Lake is a National Landmark. I suppose that means that Green Lake is just along for the ride.

     Taking my memories home, I remember staring into that elusive water, feeling like I could just sit there and watch for hours and never leave, green emboldened upon my mind.