In this precious slice of time between leaf-fall and leaf-out, on a cold and windless day, Lake Jocassee is a clear glass plate, a looking-glass into the past. The lake is always clear, mind you, mostly, but winter’s calm is special. By April, a hundred different species of flowering trees begin painting lake’s surface with swirls of pollen. Over weeks that stretch into summer the pollen drifts down into the water, finally coating the skeletons of trees fifty fathoms deep. As summer turns to fall, wakeboats churn the waters and sediments hang in milky clouds along an eroded shoreline. Ah, but winter is here now. Drift into a place where water piles against vertical rock. Look deep, deeper, and that rock is visible still, rock millions of years old, rock whose present day story is told by the water that laps at its face. The lake is always clear, mind you, mostly, but summer visitors (who inevitably comment on the clarity) are missing this place at its best. ~K