Dad and I always used to laugh about it. We'd look out the window during a heavy rain storm and watch the drenched fields fill and the expanse of water form. "Lake Clayton is back," we'd say. Dan Miller, who lives about five miles north of us, also on Clayton Road, has a similar pond form only he calls it "Lake Miller".
This is how it looked yesterday (11/30/11) morning as I walked in Sam's lane. We've had nearly 2.5" of rain in the past few days and there's just nowhere for it to go. So it sits there, atop where the soybeans grew just two months ago.
At sunset, I walked back out to see whether the water had receded. It hadn't.
Though the scene looks warm, even tropical, it was cold as could be. Already at 5:30 p.m., the temperature was dipping into the upper 30's.
Then, with the sun wholly set, the fading pink hue gave Lake Clayton another look entirely.
It is a winter sky to be sure. The reflected trees stand bare and prepared for the cold. Last night the temperature fell to the lowest of the season (20°) and the 'lake' froze nearly solid. I was not out early enough to photograph it; this is the day I do the laundry.
In a few days, Lake Clayton will dissolve before our eyes. Sunday the weatherman predicts a return to rain and the cycle will begin anew.
Two days later ...
Our overnight low of 24° froze the water trapped in the field nearly solid. I stood there and listened to the peculiar sounds rising from it ... as though a key had been tapped on an expansive glass pane, else a steely-hard rapping sound that made me think it was about to break in a kind of icy explosion. Though the sounds continued - some metallic and loud, others silky-soft - I saw not a single crack develop.