Lake Marguerite’s current diminshed state has allowed us to visit past dreams, dreams that I guess are deferred rather than denied.
This, I’m sure you recognize, is the skeleton of a cedar three (which is actually a juniper, not a true cedar). It was dead and standing in the forest when the lakebed was cleared. Once the valley floor was open, the dead tree stood exposed on the future shoreline, looking a little unkempt. So #1 Son and I cut it down and dragged it into the lakebed.
It will make fine fish structure some day. It probably won’t rot in my lifetime, and certainly not in several lifetimes of the fishies in the lake. The fish will thank me by growing large and flavorful.
As you can see, we weighed it down with several substantial rocks, but at the time we didn’t anticipate the effects of buoyancy. When the lake filled after we had set this tree skeleton in place, the trunk end stayed in place, but the unweighted end rose to the surface, and the branches poked above the water in a way that offended Pablo’s aesthetic sense. (Had they been made of glass, I might not have objected.)
So the next chance we had, we returned to this tree and added more rocks to the other end of it. We also shaved off some of the longer branches that had offended the eye. Then the lake returned, and the tree tried to rise again — and did by shaking loose the smaller rocks we had added. And so it goes. Eventually, the wood will become waterlogged and it won’t float to the surface. But first I need a lake.