When I first met my husband, Keith Williams, more than 25 years ago, we were visiting some friends at a nudist colony near Dallas, Texas, where Keith was a member. Please don’t be alarmed at this revelation. I just need to set the scene for you. Imagine us enjoying hours in the hot tub where deep conversations often took place. I’ll admit that I could barely believe that I was really there. It wasn’t a dream. There I was…having the time of my life!

Later, sitting in lawn chairs in the shade on this Saturday afternoon, this question became the topic for conversation: “What would you like to achieve in your lifetime?” I was astounded, and rather speechless, not having been associated before with people who would ask this type of question. My principal concerns for the past 30 years of my life had been about my children, and my growing knowledge about our environmental challenges awaiting us. I have no idea what my reply was to that question, but I’ll never forget Keith’s reply. “I want to make a difference.” I was skeptical of his sincerity. That lasted until I begin to discover what he meant by his answer.

He was the assistant city engineer for Tyler, Texas, at the time. He began telling me about some of the projects he designed, and his knowledge about the importance of environmental impacts. Well, that really impressed me! I had thought I was the only environmentally aware person in the entire state of Texas. Later, he began involvement with a group wanting to protect the trees along the median of a busy thoroughfare. My skepticism began to fade.

Keith wanted to fly to Colorado, where I had lived for almost 10 years, to hike and camp near Aspen in the Maroon Bells mountains. In my previous marriage, our family spent many weekends in the Colorado mountains camping and four-wheeling in our Jeep Commando. But could this Ph.D.-type person, Dr. Keith Williams, really understand the dangers of camping in those wild and forbidding mountains? I fought down my fears, and joined him in an unforgettably wonderful experience. I knew then that I wanted to spend my life with this man who continued to offer me a new way of living and thinking.

When we bought our little “cottage in the wood” in Maine, Keith had to decide whether he wanted to volunteer to protect the ocean or the lake at the end of our road, Highland Lake. When he learned about the years of data collected by Ralph Johnston on Highland Lake water quality, he made his decision. He and Ralph began their 25-year friendship when Keith joined Ralph and a few other committed volunteers who were interested in protecting Highland Lake. Keith bought a big rubber raft for his research, which I dubbed his “National Geographic boat.” In my refrigerator, I began finding small vials of murky water with threads of some algae from the lake. “Don’t throw it out,” he would command, in his Army First Sergeant voice. “I’ll be viewing that under my microscope in order to let someone in Augusta know about that plant.”

Then the plants began to cover half (or more) of the dining table. “Don’t touch them,” he again commanded. “I’ll be drying and mounting them to be sent to the Herbarium in Augusta.” After 25 years, I’m only beginning to learn how to work around those plants when it is time to set the table for dinner. This week, I discovered one of my larger bowls in the refrigerator. I pondered, “I don’t remember putting anything in that large bowl.” Of course, it contained several “pond weeds” that he had to dry and mount.

A frequent command is, “Don’t turn on the oven.” The oven, you see, is to be used for drying his collected lake plants. First, you turn on the oven to 350 degrees (like baking a cake). Then you place your plants, all delicately and artistically arranged on special paper, and on a specially made wooden holder. Then you put a large book on top of the plants, and turn off the oven for several hours. I don’t mind all that so much, but I can also command! “Don’t you ever again use my precious Will Durant book to weight down your lake plants in the oven.” So, at Goodwill, he bought a huge old dictionary that he now uses to weight down the drying plants.

Last week, he abandoned me to begin his summer surveys of some of the lakes in Maine and to attend two conferences about lakes and the environment. On his way to a U-Maine workshop on the environment, he first had to stop by Wilson Pond to look for a potentially invasive plant. Luckily, no noxious plant was found. He’ll be home later this week, in time to attend the yearly Highland Lake Association meeting where he will give a report on the water quality of Highland Lake. When he arrives at home, he will come in with armloads of books that will be immediately put on the dining table along with his lake monitoring equipment. I’ll complain loudly, but for several days, we will have to look closely to discover room for our dinner plates. He’s begun his bi-yearly survey of all the plants in Highland Lake. Ralph Johnston is sorely missed as his chief assistant. I’ll have more vials, jars and bowls of lake plants in the refrigerator.

But Keith is doing his life work. He is making a difference.

Sally Breen lives in a “cottage in the wood,” near Highland Lake, and it is too cold in Maine for those deep discussions about the meaning of life.