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Joined: 24 Nov 2016
Location: AZ
Online Status: Offline
Posts: 88
Direct Link To This Post Topic: DOG TOWN LAKE
    Posted: 19 Jul 2017 at 10:44pm
It's hot, real hot, where we live or put it another way, "the desert is losing it's fight with the Sun".  Unlike Lewton Cole we're not headed for waterhole #3.  Thanks but no thanks.  Dog Town Lake along the east shoulder of William's Mountain in Arizona's high country will do just fine.

The lake's surrounded by pine forests.  The campground set in the Kaiba National Forest with spacious campsites shared water and restroom facilities, no electricity, sewer or dump station at the campgrounds.

The thin mountain air echos with the sound of excited children freed from their mundane summer routines.  Their older siblings gather their fishing poles and tackle boxes for a morning spent along the lake shore with great hope and expectations of grilled trout for dinner.

Off in the distance is the wailful  moan of a freight train rolling through the town of Williams, over the Divide, then past Flagstaff before rumbling its way to the heartland and the east coast beyond.

These are the lazy days with midday spent in the shade relaxing, reading and pondering to the sound of rolling thunder as the white cotton billowing clouds give way to thunderheads with deep gray undersides.

It's monsoon season in Arizona's high country with dark, dank, under bellies of the thunderheads heralding the coming change as the breeze picks up.  Gone is the warm smell of the pine forest replaced by a moist, light, wind.  It's like the midday changing of the seasons as the first large drop splats against the canopy covering the picnic table.  Splat, splat, as the droplets increase in size and intensity.  The wind dies away and the drops fall vertically to the ground creating a light haze over the pine forest.  We grab the corn chips and bean dip then head for the dry safety of our "green frog".  It's nap time.

Natures relationships...ain't life strange.  The warm summer's midday heat creates the thunderheads that bring the afternoon monsoonal rain that then brings on blissful afternoon naps while falling asleep to the pitter patter of raindrops, a rhythmical sound dancing on the rooftop of the "green frog".  You wake up refreshed and energetic, renewed just like the forest after the rain.  A walk to the lake is in order.

The forest in vibrant and alive just like the early morning.  There's a chipmonk scampering about, its' brown coat clearly marked with black and white strips along its back.  Farther down the path a crow sits on a picnic table like a sentinel standing watch while a Abert squirrel rummages through a firepit looking for tasty morsels of food that the squirrel can remove from the pit but which are beyond the reach of the crow.  They're both working together for a common interest that benefits their self interests.

Down at the lake gliding high above it are the fishing hawks, the Ospreys, silently hunting, patiently waiting and watching for their meal.  The Rainbow Trout are swimming below feeding on small shad close to the surface.  A sharp eyed Osprey hunter 100 feet above the lake's surface folds its lofty wings and dives upon its' prey creating a large splash.  With its' large talons it lifts off the water taking the freshly caught meal back to the nest where a hungry brood of newborn's await their dinner.  "the circle of life" continues unabated.

It's here in the high mountain plateaus, in its valleys and the less traveled foot paths up on mountain sides where the seeps and mountain springs flow that time is marked by nature's clock.  The seasonal changes of a day between light and dark, the midday's heat and the cooling winds foretelling of the afternoon monsoon mark the time.  You see it in the inhabitants , the chipmonk, the Abert squirrel and the crow.  It is in the Osprey's hunting patterns and the need to secure its' natural place in, "the circle of life" for its next generation of fishing hawks.

The circle moves forward days to weeks, weeks to months.  Spring represents hope, summer growth, time marches on.  Fall heralds in a change as the squirrel gathers food for the up coming period of rest, the winter.  The circle repeats itself as Spring foretells of a new generation and growth.  It's natures clock not subject to power outages, it doesn't need software upgrades nor is it subject to hacking or hard drive failure.

In essence we are but time travelers spending some human time in a place that marks time by a different standard using a different clock face.  In reality, we are but a moment of sunlight fading in the mountain grass.

Bert







 
Old and in the way so now it's time to play
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