Wind Songs: Bedford Lake

Bedford Lake is indeed a very small lake.

We pulled into the tiny parking lot close to the tiny ranger station, and I climbed out of the truck eager to take pictures of the tiny lake.

The day was absolutely gorgeous and with temperatures that were thankfully not too warm or too humid.

Inwardly I cringed at the thought of the impending humidity and heat that will soon envelope the south in a t-shirt soaking haze.

The expression is "air you can wear".

Air so humid it feels like there is no oxygen in the air and you sweat even when you are doing nothing.

I cannot imagine living further south than we are.

I have no idea how people in such places as Mississippi and Louisiana and Georgia live where they live.

Standing beside the lake I looked around me, quickly trying to get the lay of the land.

It was a beautiful little place filled with deep blue sky, deep blue lake, a million and one hardwood trees with their deep green leaves.

I looked behind me at the source of the unexpected noise and smiled and nodded to a sunglasses-wearing-man who was riding a commercial mower.

The grounds around the lake looked more like someones' manicured and well landscaped lawn, rather than that of a small park open to the public.

The jeep that had passed me on the way to the lake (and which had scared my baby cows away from the fence line in my previous blog) was also parked in the parking lot and when I looked over at the fishing pier the man was already casting his line into the water.

It was a beautiful and quiet day, and he had found a beautiful and quiet place to try his fishing luck, and when he saw me watching him we also exchanged smiles and nods.

A few moments later LC and my sweet pup stood beside me.

I looked over at my Mountain Boy and smiled at him, and then looked down at James and bent down to rub her ears and kiss her on top of her furry head..................

As we all sat in the grass beside the lake talking and enjoying the day, we watched the geese swimming across the lake and close to a small cove.

Looking around me again I quickly realized that there were no trails to walk.

I resolved to walk the shore around to the cove and take pictures of the geese before we left this place.............

I grabbed Jamie's leash and we all headed for the tiny dock.

Jamie was always nervous about walking docks even after we returned to Tennessee, always feeling uncomfortable with movement under her feet and uncomfortable with water on both sides her.

So she surprised me when she led the way unhesitatingly to the very end of the ramp.

Just like her momma she is compelled to always walk to the end.

Of points, of wharfs, of docks, of trails...................

The longest needless we had ever seen on a pine tree...................

Eventually we three wanderers headed towards the fishing pier.

I watched the fisherman as we approached and then turned back towards the large section of lake to watch a fishing boat appear from around the bend of yet one more cove.

LC, Jamie and I were greatly enjoying a very quiet adventure at this lake that was only a few miles from the house..................

Heading back the way we had come we slowly walked past the fishing pier and the tiny dock, and LC and Jamie found a picnic table in the shade.

I left them and slowly wandered alone further along the shore, wandering up and down tiny points, taking pictures as I went.

This place, so close to the house, was very pretty

It was a pretty and tiny man made lake surrounded by manicured lawns.

A small public green space in the middle of farm land and quiet homes.

I stood alone by the lake alternately looking back at my guy and my dog and looking out over the lake, suddenly missing the rough, rugged and untamed beauty of both Alaska and Wyoming.

But a beautiful place none-the-less...................