Lakes aren’t like other bodies of water. They don’t flow like a river or a creek. And because of their relative size, they often forget that the ocean exists, something significantly larger and more impressive. From their vantage point, they are just like an ocean, biggest body of water in town.
What makes a lake a lake is its water, not its dirt. But that too has started to dissipate over the years. Some blame it on hot air due to climate change, others are at a loss for the sudden evaporation. Whatever it is, there are a lot of lakes that have thimbles of H2O within their muddy confines.
There’s one particular lake I know of out in the vast Southwestern desert, which has no chance of prospering. This isn’t like the primordial days of old when Arizona was a lush landscape of romping dinosaurs and other slack-jawed species now extinct. Some people will say, “but what about Lake Powell, Arizona’s most beautiful lake.” Look, I know a reservoir when I see one. Artifice doesn’t interest me, at least not when it comes to bodies of water. It’s not like this is Minnesota.
Some lakes should be replaced with sand, easier in some states than others. When a lake loses its water, it’s nothing but an empty hole in the ground, a crater of distant memories. The thing is, not every lake makes a good first impression.
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