Raking the Lake

Yesterday I went for a swim in the lake for the first time. I walked down the concrete steps next to our dock and then waded in up to my knees. I was in the water for maybe 8 seconds before I came splashing out in horror.

You may not know this about me, but I HATE mushy muddy lake bottoms. I always wear shoes in the lake (and the ocean, for that matter) because I cannot STAND the feeling of sludge squishing between my toes, and God only knows what those sharp edges are that poke out of the goop. Rocks? Shells? Scary sea creatures with gnashing teeth and sharp claws? Why take the risk?

The only thing freakier than smooshy mud at the bottom of the lake is smooshy mud growing crops of grabby grass that tickle your legs and wrap around your ankles.

I’m a bit disappointed to report that my lake has both: thick murky mire and a forest of foliage.

I can handle the mud. The aforementioned shoes get me in the lake, and as soon as I’m deep enough, I just start swimming. (And, seriously, that doesn’t have to be very deep. In Egypt, I once swam in water that was about 8 inches deep so I wouldn’t have to step on the sea cucumbers.)

But the lake weeds? That’s enough to strand me on land. Luckily, Tony and my dad came to the rescue. Armed with rakes, they bravely stepped down in to the inky unknown. They swooshed and scraped through the water, dumping piles of lake weeds up on the dock.

Tony and Dad Rake  the Lake

As they worked, I ripped off chunks of old hot dog buns and tossed them to the ducks until they (the boys, not the ducks) suggested I might lend a hand by bagging up the weeds.

Ducks and Lake Weeds

I enlisted my mom, who was a little overdressed for the occasion in a lovely soon-to-be-mud-spattered lavender top and Chinese pearl necklace. She reluctantly held the trash bags open while I scooped in the lake debris (which included a flower planter and a few chunks of concrete, in addition to the mountains of plant life).

Mom holds the bag

Dad and Tony made another pass with their rakes this afternoon and reported a much cleaner lake bottom. I hope so. I prefer my natural bodies of water to feel more like a swimming pool than a fish tank.

I bag the weeds

One thought on “Raking the Lake”

  1. Your mom cracks me up! And I know what you mean: mirky water is scary stuff. Who knows what’s down there?!

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