Lost Dunes Lake (and amphitheater) from CH6

The wind blew around the rim of the amphitheater, shearing leaves and wrappers and bringing the smell of waterfowl--up and over the berm goose herds grazed in the lakeshore mud, loosing their bowels from their buoyant bodies. And it blew Natasha's blouse against her back so it popped in front, bounced like she was running in place. Larry kept blinking and removing and replacing his glasses and blinking. It was almost too windy to speak. OK. We had little to say. Up the hill to the west of the main building, we could see a man in blue coveralls walking alongside a forklift with a stack of orange road cones jammed on one of the tines. Every ten yards or so he'd separate a cone from the stack and place it on the ground.