My aged companion Crisp was looking at the lake and the disappearing fence line.
“One dry year my Uncle Henry decided to fence his paddocks in an attempt to make greater use of his land. He was what my father called an unlucky farmer.
At harvest time you could be sure it would rain and at sowing time it was guaranteed not to rain.
So this day he set to work to build the fences he thought would benefit his farming. They looked magnificent as they ran across the vast plain.
Then it rained, and rained. The fences slowing disappeared beneath the ever-rising water. In the end his place looked a lot like what we are looking at now.
A bit of research showed he’d built at the bottom of an ancient lake. The rain had restored it to its original form.
The water settled in and Uncle Henry had to settle elsewhere.”