The sky starts to lighten in the East and awakens me. Not gently—but with a jolt. I am awake and out of bed ready to start the day. With a mug of hot coffee in hand, I wander down to the dock and watch the sun come over the trees and shoot a blinding reflection across the lake at me. And so starts another day on Lake Cora.
I’ve been intrigued by the reflections on the water. How they are constantly changing and yet stay the same. With no breeze to speak of, the lake has been like a giant mirror. This morning, the concentric circles generated by a paddle dipping into the water and pushing a kayak along the shore disturb that stillness. The patterns that emerge and slowly morph into new ones keep drawing me back.
Lake Cora is a spring-fed lake that gets very little attention from the public, probably because the pubic access point is well hidden. The water is so clear I have seen large bass and their nests that honeycomb the sandy lake bottom. In other areas it is like looking down on a forest of weeds as you glide across the water.
What I am seeing is pattern everywhere: from the linear reflections, the stands of tall straight trees, and the lake weeds to circular fish nests, dipping paddles, and feeding fish.
Will this be the inspiration I need to start an abstract series? I think it will somewhere down the line. When that time comes, I will have my journal with lots of notes and a few sketches to augment my memories.