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The Lake Isle of Ruffey All this time I haven't mentioned the tiny island in our little lake! Indeed it's overlook-able - from several hills. Its trees and reedy banks look just like onshore. Too small to feel worth visiting for a stroll of, say, ten paces, or squeeze in nine bean-rows. The Irish poet never made it to his lake isle, except in his imagination. This one figures in the mind's eye scarcely, let alone the deep heart's core. No, all it's good for is ducks to hatch a clutch remote from night predators like the rare fox. An owl of course well might drop in darkly before the brood has been led by Mother wadd- ling down to their tentative first paddle and even more risks. This lake isle no doubt was formed by the same earth-moving machines as made the lake from the creek valley and raised the dam that holds water back from its old free run all the way down through Templestowe to the Yarra. The signs say No Swimming for Humans, and Discouraged for Dogs. Should yours swim there, avoid contact with its wet coat - stormwater drains feed the lake - it's far from pure. Pure, though, our feelings for it, wherever we view it from, especially its overlooked islet unvisited by humans. What I hear right now's no owl but a tawny frogmouth sounding Ommm. A child might wonder whether, should he make it over the water, wading, then dog-paddling, he might be the first to burst up the bank into the secret interior there to shelter his own islanded self, and still get home in time for tea. Max Richards, Doncaster Vic