It’s Saturday morning of Labor Day weekend 2012 as I sit here 75 feet from Sebago Lake typing this. I arrived here upta camp on May 19. As has been the case these past four years, on Labor Day weekend, my thoughts turn to closing up and heading west to my “winter” home in San Diego. While having lived the first 44 years of my life in Maine, the past 14 have found San Diego as my year-round home. BIW transferred me to their San Diego office in January of 1998 and after a career spanning 29 years, retired me in December of 2008 due to a balky heart valve and degenerative joint disease that has taken three major joints to date. I’ve got damn near as much metal in me as my boat, TRUDY.

I am reflecting on the summer and the good times I’ve had this year.I have tried without success to explain to friends and family alike that while my life of bicoastal living may seem idyllic, there is a price to pay. And that price is saying goodbye each fall to this magnificent lake for seven long months and the wonderful community of people and businesses that support it. So this morning found me in a reflective mood and I sat down to try to share some of that reflection with you.

First off is how empty the lake appears as I look from my home behind the Sandbar all the way to the Camel pasture and Sebago Lake State Park. That’s almost the entire 12-mile length of the lake. It’s Labor Day weekend and the lake should be packed with boats of all sizes and variety. Instead due to the change in the school year, this past week has been a bust for the tourism industry and the weekend looks to be not much better.

This summer has been one of my best on the lake. Even after 58 years of living on the shores of this wondrous lake, I found new places to explore, little coves and cuts I’d never noticed before. I attribute that to the purchase of TRUDY and the comfort and ease of using a pontoon boat. Also, a depth-finder always comes in handy.

In a summer full of superlatives, a few stand out. First was watching my dog, Dr. Zeus, change from an abused and scrawny casualty of the streets of Los Angeles to become healthy, strong and proud. Next would be the time spent with family and friends here. While sadly we lost my Uncle William L. Butler late in the summer, we were able to have several large family gatherings, which he attended and enjoyed. For the entire Butler/Webb family, this place is our gathering place, our Oahu.

I’ve also seen several families of Mergansers hatch and grow to where they are nearly ready to find their own place in the world. The same for two families of loons, mallards and Canada geese. I have made new friends and written about some of them. I will write about more of them in the future. One I hope to write about is the gentleman in Jordan Bay who owns two absolutely immaculate antique wooden boats. One a 1929 Chris Craft which according to my Chris Craft registry may well be the only one of its kind. He also had a gorgeous Century with the most wonderful piece of art deco stainless steel on its prow.

Seeing the progress made by the folks fighting the milfoil invasion to where the Songo Lock continues to be open and the adventure of traveling through three lakes and two rivers is still possible. And finally and perhaps most treasured of all has been the chance to write this column and hopefully make one of you out there reading this want to be a part of the community of that is Sebago Lake.

One negative and it’s funny to think of it: A woman (most likely a camp counselor) who came down to water’s edge at one of the private summer camps on the lake to tell me I was trespassing; this while I was sitting aboard TRUDY floating in the waters of Sebago. I politely informed her of Maine law regarding bodies of water larger than 20 acres being public property.

Passing brings such sweet sorrow, wrote the Bard. Indeed it does. But this lake for all it represents to me, to all those who live on it, who work on it, who come here to re-create themselves, it will be here next spring. Waiting for all of us to swim in its waters, paddle our kayaks, drive our boats, set our fishing lines, or just sit on its banks and let the beauty of it soothe our souls.

Until next spring, remember to protect, preserve and enjoy … THE LAKE.

Brian Webb is a seasonal resident of Standish.