A lake's gift

Cindy kayaks Chandler Lake ... counting cottages.

It’s mid June now … the first day of summer. The trees along the lake’s edge are done filling in their leaves. Dark and light shades of green cast their colors on the water like Monet brush strokes.

The fish seem everywhere. Off our shore, just a few yards distance and 2 feet down, are tight circles of cleared sand. They seem other worldly, like arms-wide crop circles. My first thought was that water from springs, shooting up, formed them. But I learned later that this is where bluegill hatchlings are born.

It must have been a good crop. Bluegill scurry around our dock like busy travelers in a train station. Bigger fish, bass mainly, also occasionally saunter by. They say the fishing is good. I’ve not yet tried it, but I must.

Top of the drive.

Chandler Lake, where we reside, is a gift. Soon we will have witnessed a full year of seasons here. We’ve seen the summer green yield to reds and yellows, then to frigid white and spring’s messy melt, and back to green. Already I claim the lake as a friend. Sure, it’s a friend I’m still getting to know … e.g., the bluegill spawn. But a friend nonetheless. And teacher, too.

Geologically, this is considered a kettle lake, as most of Michigan’s other lakes are. They were formed during the glacial retreat when huge chunks of ice broke away and were left to sit. Debris – soil and rock – would fill in around the ice chunks as they melted, creating a bowl effect.

For our house and land, it’s a fairly steep bowl – basically a five-level descent. At the top is the public road out to the city where our mailbox sits. A steep driveway takes you down to Level 4 – the house’s main level with garage. The house’s lower level is Level 3, where my office resides. And below that rests the wooded slope with a garden and a brick patio (Level 2). Then, at last, the shore – Level 1.

Stairs up from shore.

The kettle actually continues its rise above the road. There, on the other side of a dense and fat lip of trees and sandy bluff, is a thick, 60-acre stand of forest that boasts a narrow trail and a half-dozen miniature kettle lakes. Nellie loves this trail, as do I, because of its seclusion and earthy smells.

The way the house hugs our land is nearly perfect, especially for anyone who aspires to be an orinthologist. We have arena seating on our main-floor deck, high among the trees. Here we’re on the birds’ highway. Yellow Finches, Northern Cardinals, Robins, Baltimore Orioles, Pileated Woodpeckers, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds and more all dash back and forth in a blur.

Below, at shore level, there are the expected ducks … Mallards and others. But also Great Blue Herons, Loons and Canada Geese. 

Yellow Finch.

And high above – the Bald Eagle.

The one obvious thing missing on the house’s lake side was a second deck, below the main one, just outside my office windows. It seemed natural to fill this gap, and I built it with the help of my neighbor and another friend. 

Living a tiered existence is so different from our Kansas experience, where flatlands rule. Let’s say you’re on the dock but want to check the mail. First you take the stairs from the shore and dock to the brick patio on Level 2, then up the garden path to Level 3, then up a long flight of wooden exterior stairs to the driveway and Level 4, then up the driveway to Chandler Road and Level 5. Go left to find the mailbox.

The long stairway down.

The trip causes some huffing and puffing, but there’s always the positive that the downhill trek will be easier. (I won’t share the hazards of navigating any of this in the deep snow. Let’s enjoy summer, after all. But I promise in late fall to recount how Cindy almost lost control of the garbage bin halfway up the drive, save for a head block.)

I’m told there’s considerable history here at the lake.

The area was heavily logged at one point, and a logging road and perhaps even rails once stretched across our property. Trees were cut and the logs sent west and then north to the shores of Traverse City, where they were put on ships destined for Chicago and other points along Lake Michigan.

Pictures provided by neighbors whose grandparents first built here show scalped shores. It’s testament to Nature’s resilience that she deftly filled in behind the loggers with thick stands of red pines, birches, oaks and maples.

The new deck.

During a recent kayak trip, we counted 53 houses and cottages around the lake. They come in all sorts and sizes. Ours is a fully appointed house. But it’s easy to spot the rustic pine-paneled cabins that originally were built here as Chandler evolved from its logging past. Indeed, Chandler and the other lakes that are nestled nearby, southeast of Traverse City – Arbutus, High, Tibbets, Spider, Indian, Rene – were the ideal locations for Michigan auto workers and other downstaters to build their cottages.

Today our house is but a 15-minute drive from downtown Traverse City. And yet it still seems a world away. Right now, as I’m writing, the winds have come up. The blue on the lake is spotted with light shadows of clouds, full of fluff. A hummingbird zips by, abuzz – a noisy contrast to the soft flick and flitter of three Yellow Finches at the feeder.

Yes, there’s a lot to learn about this lake and the natural world that lies around and below it.

And it’s summer, so school’s in session. That I now have time to be the student adds much more to the blessing.