They call it paradise, I don't know why. If you call someplace paradise, must you kiss it goodbye?

I find peace, reflection, and better ways to understand indigenous people's ways of knowing when I kayak on Lake Jeanette, where I live.

Lake Jeanette has a Skypainter that rewards us almost nightly with dynamic and awe inspiring art.  The Skypainter was on a roll last night on Friday, June 14 2024 (all five pictures are from last night)

I was emotionally up and down.

Up was not complicated. Lots of beauty, a few great blue herons, and about fifteen species of birds singing, lots of fish jumping, and lush vegetation around the lake.

Down was more complicated.

The lake has lost some residents perhaps a harbinger for the future. The 4-6 pair of cormorants that used the lake for their summer vacation didn't stay this year but kept migrating northward. The Mallard population is about a 10th of what it was, but is probably because a neighbor stopped feeding a whole colony. I haven't seen a Kingfisher this year.

There definitely seems to be an insect apocalypse. We leave our door open for the dogs and virtually no insects come in, albeit a few mosquitoes of tasted my blood.

The shores are eroding, and many large trees will be falling into the lake in the near future.

Lake Jeanette is an artificial lake but when it was built by Cone Mills they apparently left a 75 ft. buffer zone around the lake as a conservation area. When the area around the lake was developed the buffer zone was kept intact. Since it is not managed, invasive species are moving and large trees fall into the water as the shore erodes. But, on the other hand, the forest surrounding the lake cannot be cut and is home to a lot of birds and wildlife despite many lakefront house owners wanting to cut them down so they have a better view of the lake.

The lake also does not allow jet skis or speed boats (or swimming). So, for someone like me, who was transformed a bit by reading Braiding Sweetgrass, going out on the lake in a self-propelled kayak is a chance for me to express gratitude for the water and all of the organisms that let me share the lake with them. And, it is also just a chance to feel a part of "nature" not just a user of it.

Although there are no super loud and fast boats on the lake, there are pontoon boats and fishing boats. Last night there was one pontoon boat where people were having a birthday celebration with loud music and alcohol, and where the captain felt it was fun to drive the boat full throttle piercing the silence and sending a wake that just speeds up erosion on the edge. There were several pairs or groups of people fishing on the lake. Several had loud music playing (like the sound of nature isn't enough?) and thus had to yell to talk to each other. This carries across the lake so you can hear every word of their conversation. Not everyone appreciates the sounds of nature or silence.

Another person took two pontoon boats and tied them together. On one of the pontoons they built an unattractive shelter. Put down Astroturf carpet, leather chairs, a large fern plant to create a living room. The person is also apparently fond of pirates so has two pirate flags, including a skull and bones) on a 16 foot pole. And on the back of the shelter hangs a another flag with human bones. The person was stopped right in front of our dock as I returned from kayak on Thursday night. They started their engine and a plume of blue smoke came out as the driver pounded a beer. 

For me the lake is all about "life". A boat with symbols of death all over it felt incongruous.

I am not sure how much longer the lake will be safe from loud gasoline engines or whether it will become a party lake like the Lake of the Ozarks. Don Henley and Glen Frey wrote "They call it paradise; I don't know why; You call someplace paradise; Kiss it goodbye."

Fortunately, the Skypainter still puts on beautiful shows most nights. The herons still share the lake with me. The squirrels and racoons f*ck with our bird feeders, and lots of birds keep singing. And, the fish keep jumping.

For that and them, I am so grateful.