In a world of all-change and perpetual decay of our property and our meat chariot bodies it can be difficult to take pleasure in small victories in a no-win war. Man's belief in his supremacy over the primal forces of our world is shown to be the vanity of Ozymondias or as futile as Gilgamesh's quest for immortality. I'm reminded of this not only by rust and mechanical breakdowns or the gray hairs on my head, but by walks around our woods.
lake deposited clay forms the bed of the creek on our property |
The glaciers that flowed over the great lakes filled up lower areas until they were stopped by higher relief landscapes and the warmer temperatures of the south. As each ice age passed, the glaciers receded back up the valleys, but sometimes ice blocked drainage channels for many years, which is possibly how the lake formed.
As water flowed along newly deposited till and glacial debris, rocks and boulders fell out first, of course, then materials like sand did, and the finest stuff, which forms clay, was carried to standing water where it settled out. Eventually the lake drained and the clay was covered over and in some places it is cut through by moving water.
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