By Wendy Shreve
Years ago, when asked to write about Crystal Lake in Orleans, I felt tempted to provide an ecological history of the ups and downs of the lake: fertilizer run-off, acid rain and goose droppings being the main culprits of algae blooms and inedible fish.* I also considered writing a brief memoir recalling my halcyon days as a child coming to Cape Cod for two weeks during the summer. Instead, I chose
to share with readers a fiction author’s perspective.
The following is an excerpt from my novel Shadowwater: **
With the onset of June, rafts had begun to be anchored for swimming or sunbathing. Soon, swimmers from Nauset would come here to clean off the salt water from the Atlantic. One visitor had said, “Better than an outside shower, if you’re not picky about water temperature.”
Lily welcomed a steady breeze from the East, coming from the ocean, as the humidity had begun to rise. It was late Sunday morning. She and Cal had arrived in time to see a fisherman with water up to the top of his waders, calling out to his friend who sat on the dock with pride, as the fisherman held his fishing line with a large striped bass dangling at the end…
Cal took in the scenery surrounding Crystal. A dead, serpentine-shaped tree at the opposite end of the lake had been stripped on top—where a piece had broken off and had been filled with woodpecker holes—and yet the tree still stood. Other trees were also bare, except for a couple of pines. All covering the hills; seamless, as if there were no separation between the lake, the trees, and the blue sky. . . Cal watched as the wind blew the water in opposing directions. Like diamonds dancing across the crystal-clear lake.
A high-pitched “Fee-bee, Fee-bee,” came the stuttering sound and again, “Fee-bee…”
“What was that?” she said.
“Phoebe. Eastern. Chickadees have a similar call. Did you hear those skips?”
She nodded. “That means the bird, male most likely, has been in an aggressive posture.
Warning others to stay away, I’d bet.”
“Could’ve been a female…See, there she is! Her tail’s wagging, too.” The tiny bird,
with a blackish head and whitish breast, had a fanned tail moving back and forth.
Cal enjoyed Lili’s childlike delight.
The feathered creature fascinated her. The bird flew across the lake; a speck in the sky yet she could describe it in detail. Cal had once told her, “If you let yourself, you can feel its presence.” Its spirit lingered long after they departed.
There has never been a time when I’ve gone to Crystal Lake where I haven’t seen, experienced memorable moments such as an osprey surveying the fish stock. Or another day, when my friend and I spotted a golden retriever sitting on the bow of a one-man kayak as the dog’s master broke the lake’s surface with see-sawing strokes. Both the kayaker and canine traveled the length of Crystal oblivious to the spectacle.
If Cape Cod is my home, Crystal Lake is my picture window.
*Some of the aforementioned information in the introduction was provided by
Orleans Pond Coalition.
**The excerpt has been edited for content and length.
