Lake Alexander at Panola Mountain State Park is beautiful in all seasons and at all times of the day. Richard and I just stopped on the boardwalk yesterday and had a chat with a fellow walker. We spoke quietly as the sun was setting, the almost full moon was reflected in the lake and a heron on the shoreline totally ignored us...it was quiet and still and the air was fresh and cool. He told us that it was a shame that Mr. Alexander did not live long enough to see the completed trail...he said that although Mr. Alexander wanted to leave his six hundred acres to Panola Mountain State Park, his family was against it, that some members of the family wanted to develop it and build houses on this beautiful land. I am so thankful that this did not happen and that we are able to enjoy this natural beauty.
The lake is lovely. If you look at my last post, you will see that there is Upper Alexander Lake and Lower Alexander Lake, separated by the small road. As you walk on this road, it is like walking on water. It is for bikers and hikers only (although the park rangers will sometimes drive their trucks on it, they always look out for us, since WE are the ones with the right-of-way!) The boardwalk that is across the wetlands area of Upper Alexander Lake is wonderful, it arches out so much into the lake, that it too feels as if you are walking on water.
I found a poem by Sarah Rossiter. I hope you like it too.
Would you believe I walked on water as Jesus did, and
Peter too, that is, until fear weighed him down? It wasn’t
A miracle, not like his, though as I slid across the pond,
Lily pads swayed underfoot while minnows slipped,
Slim silver needles through water like transparent silk.
Which is to say it felt like one for even though the black ice
Held, who can trust what can’t be seen, and, so, like Peter,
I felt fear. And yet, I walked--I didn’t sink--on polished glass
Between two worlds, the one we live in, and the next where
From cold depths, a turtle rose with eyes like dark seeds, bright,
Unblinking, until he stopped, surprised by ice, a mirrored sheet
Of shining light through which, as I lay down we looked,
To see each other face to face.
by Sarah Rossiter