Baker’s Lake Nature Preserve

There is little I can add to the original review, except that the times I have stopped here have made me feel very serene and centered. I always regret not having a good camera and binoculars with me. Then I remember … no regrets and I just enjoy the view and the moment.

Baker’s Lake Nature Preserve is huge, some 300 acres I believe, including a 17-​acre oak & hickory grove (savannah), rustic thickly-​wooded areas, adjacent Ron Beese Park, and the highlight: a 100-​acre lake with an island in the center.
I’m guessing at the size of the lake, but it is a rare nesting place for great egrets & black-​crowned night herons. Birdwatchers come by the busload with binoculars & telescopes, in season. The lake is also home to other bird species including Canada geese, swans, great blue herons & many varieties of ducks.
I lived across the street from this lake for a dozen years with my young son, from the time he was 8 until I finally left IL for LA. I’ve not been back to Baker’s Lake since I left Barrington 10 years ago, but I’d expect that the preserve is much the same. Although it was closely protected, the area was not «groomed» & was left to evolve in a natural state.
I think the historic round barn that sat back in the woods on the far side of the lake is gone now. I posted a pic of my son at age 11 with our dog Mona Lisa by the barn, which was in a state of decay at that time. The roof & interior were water-​damaged, and attempts at raising funds to restore the structure had failed.
I considered it a magical place and I routinely walked there alone on the dirt path through the forest. In spring there were fields of yellow daffodils in the shady areas under the trees and I carried home armloads.
These woods were almost always deserted. Visitors seemed to limit themselves to the more visible savannah on the opposite side of the lake (where it was not unusual to see groups of nature appreciates cheer for migrating birds).
We would sometimes see deer back by the old barn, and a skunk who always minded her own business, and foxes & countless woodpeckers.
I realize now that the years in Barrington were the most important of my life so far. This was the time I raised my son alone, the time I had my gallery just up the street, the time I devoted myself to fulfilling my dream of having a career as a fine artist.
The wildflowers in the nature preserve provided my inspiration to move away from painting & sculpture into botanical photography, which ended up producing the best work of my career.
I did a lot of soul-​searching in the nature preserve. It was not only my inspirational source, it was my refuge. It was where I went to sort things out, to contemplate, to clear my head. It was during these years that I matured as a woman, a parent, an artist. It was when I discovered my own spirituality.
And Baker’s Lake is the place my stepfather’s ashes were set free, scattered there by my mother.
The lake gave me the scariest moments of my life, on a winter day when I mistakenly thought my son may have fallen through the ice after we became separated during a hike in a snowstorm. Not only did we ice skate on the lake in winter, we often walked across the frozen water to the island.
There are too many animal rescue stories to mention:
the duck frozen into the ice, turtles stranded after crossing the road to lay eggs (including a snapper), baby squirrels that had lost their mother, a goose that could not fly…
I saved most of those & many more, as many as I could, over the years.
It must have been good Karma because the preserve returned the gift of life to me. When I was trying to quit smoking I hid my cigs in a hollow tree far down the muddy path that ran alongside the lake. My intention was that I’d have to suffer mosquitoes, often braving the path alone in the dark, to retrieve a smoke. Most times I decided halfway that it wasn’t worth it & turned back. After a few months of this nonsense I was able to quit completely. I have no doubt that muddy trail saved my life.
It was then that I was fit to take up serious cycling, which ultimately became the reason for moving to LA — for the great bike paths & to ride year round.
There was, however, what I perceived to be a dark side to Baker’s Lake.
Decades before I lived there it had been a peat bog that caught fire & smoldered for years. Evidently the lake was originally created when the bog was flooded to end the burning. I wondered if the strange sound I sometimes heard out my window that faced the water could somehow be related to the lake’s history.
It was a loud groaning noise that filled the air over the entire area. It was otherworldly. It sounded like the collective suffering of eternal generations, I thought. Oddly, my neighbors never heard this sound.
Baker’s Lake represents my comfort, my salvation, my greatest challenges & triumphs, and my greatest fears. It feels like a lifetime ago that I lived there, as I write this at El Porto beach, so far removed in time & distance. It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey, so they say. And the journey continues…
This 1000^th review is dedicated to my son, who lives his life well, and without whom my life could never be complete.