Green Water

My first visit to Lake Lowell was in 2019, with my brother-in-law, Scott.

Its reputation had kept us away, but we launched his aluminum fishing boat in search of largemouth bass and headed for the south shore.

We found towering cottonwoods, flooded willow thickets, and deep tangles of snags right at the water’s edge. We eased the boat into the tangle.

Coins of sunlight danced on the green water.

Warblers, orioles, and red-winged blackbirds echoed through the canopy.

Over a century of rising and falling water had washed out the soil, baring massive root balls in the musty banks and softening the shoreline into gentle shelves.

Scott hooked a solid bass. We laughed as he brought it alongside the boat.

“I think we’re going to like Lake Lowell,” he said, lifting the fish into the light.