“I can see clearly now,
the rain is gone”
- Johnny Nash
Every spring, something remarkable happens in many Minnesota lakes. For a brief period, the water becomes unusually clear. Lake biologists call it the early summer clear water phase. After ice-out and spring turnover, populations of tiny zooplankton explode and begin grazing on algae faster than the algae can reproduce. The result is water so clear you can see rocks, plants, and lake-bottom features that are often hidden later in the summer.
A week into my new job, I feel like I’ve entered a clear water phase. I know who I serve and how I can help. The work is meaningful, and I feel like I have room to think, learn, and be present.
What strikes me most is that this clarity didn’t appear overnight. A lake doesn’t simply decide to become clear. The clearwater phase is the product of everything that came before it: a long winter, spring warming, countless biological interactions, and the gradual emergence of balance within the ecosystem. In much the same way, the clarity I’m experiencing now is possible because of the experiences that came before it. Every chapter of my career has taught me something valuable. The relationships, lessons, and opportunities from earlier chapters helped prepare me for this one.
One of the things I love most about the clear water phase is that it allows you to see things that are usually hidden. Rocks, patches of aquatic plants, fish, and subtle changes in the lake bottom suddenly come into focus. The lake itself hasn’t changed. Your ability to see it has.
I’ve noticed something similar in this new role. Once the uncertainty that naturally accompanies any major life transition begins to settle, you start noticing things that were always there but were harder to see for awhile. I find myself fully present with the people in front of me and able to appreciate conversations in a different way. I’ve started getting back into previous interests, like insects and drawing.
Perhaps most importantly, this season has reminded me why I entered this profession in the first place. Like many people, I’ve spent parts of my career focused on projects, plans, meetings, and the countless details that come with getting good work done. Those things still matter. But when the water clears, the deeper purpose becomes easier to see. At its heart, this work has always been about safeguarding Minnesota’s natural resources. What I’ve come to appreciate over the years is that we do that best when we help people care for the places they love.
Maybe that’s what the clear water phase offers both lakes and people. Not a different reality, but a clearer view of the one that was already there. Sometimes all it takes is a little less turbulence to see more deeply into what matters.
Moriya Rufer is a lake biologist and entomologist with 20 years experience working with and loving lakes in northern Minnesota.
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