The Drowned World

On the lake, the water levels varies from year to year, no longer regulated by nature, but by artifice and treaty. The snows of this winter which filled the coffers also filled the lake, so much so that most of the rocky beaches are underwater and the woody plants of yesteryear stand, slowly drowning. Down at Bristlecone Beach, where Christ the King holds its Bible study, where banks of rich purple flowers bloomed last year, there is no longer a peninsula, not even an island, but only green and dying trees and a sign forlornly sticking out of the water like ruined tower off the Anglian coast.