Those blistering hot Midwest days (which we managed to miss whilst in New York) may have earned complaints from the locals, but they did at least one good thing. They made the water in our lake deliciously warm — and I can tell you this from first-hand experience.
When Libby and I went out to Roundrock on Sunday, one of the things on our agenda was to swim in our lake. It would be our first swim this year, so we were eager to have the chance. We had a few other things on our agenda, and we managed to start one and complete another (the completed one was to have lunch), and then we turned our attention to getting in the lake and swimming for as long as we could stand it.
There was no need to ease ourselves into the water, no need to dab water on our shoulders to ease the transition. This water was warm, warm, warm, and we could wade right into it until we were deep enuf to fall the rest of the way. Wonderful! Only by kicking hard could we stir up any cool water from below. The thermocline was below five feet, and the water at the very surface was actually hot.
When we finally managed to pull ourselves from the water and become terrestrial creatures again, more than three hours had passed. Three languid hours.
What did we do with our three waterborne hours? We solved one mystery, discovered another, and spent a half hour just watching a heron patrol the shallow waters.
You may remember that I speculated that the glass chunk I have placed atop an underwater stump in the deeper water must have fallen off finally because we had not seen it the entire spring. We thought that when we finally got to swim, we’d paddle over to where we guessed the stump would be and confirm that the notch I had cut in it to receive the glass was empty. After some educated guessing about where the stump was, Libby finally came upon it, and the mystery was solved. Only it wasn’t the solution we expected. The chunk o’glass was still in the stump, right where we’d left it so many years ago. It was the lake level that was higher than we were accustomed to seeing. The lake has simply stayed deep enuf consistently enuf for us to not be able to see the glass. That was a happy surprise.
The other mystery was the whereabouts of Peregrine. This old log has been floating about the lake for years. It’s always a little adventure of mine to see where it has ended up each time we visit. Peregrine tends toward the southern shore, though when last seen it was on the northern side, down by Isla de Peligro. At the time it was on dry land because the lake had receded some. Despite swimming and wading along the entire watered shoreline, we did not find Peregrine. Libby wondered if it might have gone over the spillway finally. I didn’t see any evidence of that, though I also did not walk down in the pecan acre below the dam. My guess is that it floated even farther up the lake (when there was even more water in it) and then found itself high and dry when the water receded. Another speculation Libby offered was that the thing has finally become waterlogged and rests on the bottom somewhere. My guess is that it will turn up eventually.
- Bats bear young this month.