The Ozarks in December
December 30, 2005
As I sit here at the keyboard, a virtual blank piece of paper facing me, I look out over a piece of Missouri’s Lake of the Ozarks. It isn’t the view I would have chosen in my more energetic years, but as decrepitude crept up on me we opted for a unit in one of those horrible multiple-level condominium apartments that have been blighting portions of this beautiful lake’s oak lined shore in recent years. In one of the boat wells in the dock below nestles an eleven year old Ranger bass boat that is calling me even now, in spite of 45 degree water and 35 degree wind. Sixty-five steps take me down to my boat, and sixty-five steps bring me back. When the steps become no longer negotiable, if I haven’t tumbled out of the boat by then, there is an elevator suitable for wimp-fisherfolk.
A lake condo in the dead of winter has one big thing going for it. It’s quiet. No growling PWCs churn up the lake. No oversize yachts send huge wakes pounding into the docks. No kids. No dogs. Few neighbors. Just peace.
What could be more appropriate during this last week of the year, when the world’s mischief makers are pausing to plot next year’s surprises?
Dave, feeling reflective.
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