Out on the lake

It is hard to believe that only a few weeks back this was covered with ice and not that long before there were people out here ice fishing.


This past week was unusually warm for spring in the Berkshires. It seemed that we jumped right into summer, which sometimes occurs but only because spring is so late.
On one of these fine days I was able to take the kayak out on Laurel Lake, a body of water defined by its depth not its size. Fed by streams it is surrounded by woods, pastures and some houses.

The sun was bright and the wind light, enough to make a rippling of waves and lapping sounds along the shore and as I paddled. The water temperature was mild, though I am not sure I'd take the plunge with a dip; for then then wind would definitely be noticed.




Paddling across one side to the farthest shore and able to get some good sprints in, the workers were repairing picnic tables and raking sand at the Lee beach. The Lenox beach at the opposite side was quiet and vacant. Where the water was calm, swimming trout could be seen enjoying the fact that those fishing were on the other side of the lake, the water weeds were starting to green but still mostly held themselves to the lower depths .

Last fall when I was last out on the lake, the leaves were vibrant orange and red and the second homeowners had closed up and left for the winter, now there were buds on the trees and it was still still early for the snowbirds to return. At the boat ramp people of all types were casting there lines hoping for a big one as the environmental police were cheerfully bantering and doing a spot check for licenses. As I paddled away I left their talking belind and it was lost in the voice of the wind; blowing across the water, through the trees and forest across the thick grasses.

On a part of the shore where there were houses, workers were hammering and sawing, jolting noises from the mostly mellow sounds of nature. I heard the sound of a solitary loon that I couldn't spot but there was no mistaking the squawking pair of ducks that didn't like my approach and that finally took flight.



The clouds above were wispy and fine and the outline of a jet could be seen miles above, so far that there was no sound, just the sight of it glimmering in the sun.

The geese were grazing on the bordering pastures with an occassional honk but mostly not noticing I was there. In the matted down rushes birds flew about, darting from shoreline perch to the piles of grass and then back again as quickly.




Spring was in the Berkshires and it brought along summer for an early visit. It is a time before tourists, a time for nature to wake up.

What a pleasure to be part of it!!