When we moved to the lake a year ago, we thought of the changing seasons in terms of when it warmed up enough to get the kayaks out on the water, and when it really warmed up enough to swim; but we've since come to realize that lake living is defined by seven seasons. In addition to the typical Spring, Summer, etc; four become seven with "Ice Over," "Breakup" and "Ice Out."
These additional seasons are the source of much casual chatter all around town. Go into the local country store (which also serves as a 2-pump gas station and one of the few left where you pay
after you pump your gas) on any given day and inevitably you'll hear, "Any shanties out on the ice yet?" or "Is it running at the dam yet?" or "Eldon tried to run his skid across breakup. Heard he just about lost it," or "Heard my first loon the other night so must be ice out."
The lake holds us hostage from one season to the next. It moans and groans as it freezes over, teases with occasional streams of fresh water, ices back up, softens, refreezes, and when it's damn good and ready, melts. The water level, which is controlled by a dam at one end, is lowered in the fall prior to freeze up to prevent shore flooding and raised back up as soon as ice out happens. That is the only control we have over it - a mere pittance compared to its power to control our activities from one season to the next.
I was strolling down the path to the lake the other day when I noticed a sugar maple with an unusual pattern around its bark. Getting closer, I could here the rhythmic "tat, tat, tat" as a woodpecker drilled away on an upper part.
