Sandman's Journal

Yesterday morning Mom and I walked the Lake Ilo trail and marveled at its lushness.

Lake Ilo--only a mile from my house--is a prehistoric paradise this month. Blue herons, like neutered pterodactyls, honk from their high perches in the cottonwoods, while looming buzzards, like teratorns, attempt to snatch fuzzy chicks from under them.

Decomposing carp, like coelacanth fossils, line the shore below. The air is humid and dank. Large white toadstools populate the forest edge. Turtles, like children of Egyptian pharaohs, sun themselves on naked logs next to half-baked frogs.

Lake Ilo is well-maintained but rarely visited. In my eyes, it's a hidden treasure as precious as Manhattan's Central Park Lake.