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I wait for rain with all the patience of a five-year-old waiting for Santa Claus. Lake Jocassee’s clear, cool water has dropped to a new low of 16’ below full pool; ancient gneiss rocks carrying old propeller scars now rise ten feet into open air. Familiar landmarks look familiar no more. Favorite talking points—the wintergreen fragrance of yellow birch, the silky strength of a fall webworm nest, the ripe-or-not ripe dare of persimmon fruit—are all out of easy reach. A wide exposure of shoreline reveals gaps of white sand beach between long stretches of fragmented rock. Before the lake, forests covered these slopes. Then water rose, and now water recedes, uncovering mysteries from time long passed. Come, see, before the rain returns and the lake reclaims the secrets of the land.