As the drought slowly drains Lake Cachuma, the valley is a land of contrasts. This islet that appeared where there was once open water, now sports eroded edges to windward up to dusty brown and back down to verdant shades of green along the shallower shore.
On a high ridge not far away, in this long zoom shot a buck silently seeks a doe all but oblivious to the contrasting distant song of our passing plane.
Far beneath where boaters had fished the deep bottom, now an old highway bridge resonates with the forgotten sound of 1930s automobiles rumbling past the farm buildings that stood on those now bare foundations washed by decades of waves.
This eastern end of the lake is now a green valley, and the treed island where that farm once stood is now a hillock surrounded by furrowed rings left as the water ebbed.
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