Quietly slipping back into the (writing) pond, avoiding unnecessary splashing.Posted: March 21, 2012
I spent the entire day (except for a trip to the dog park and a short practice drive with my boy) sitting on my deck, trying to find my place in my work. Whenever frustration overwhelmed me and I looked up from my keyboard, I could watch the Mallards and Canada geese glide around on the black water of the pond. (Did you know a cloudy sky turns small, still bodies of water black?)
Now that it’s after midnight, I can only listen to the sounds of the creatures that live beyond the deck-rail. Mostly, I’ve been hearing the geese and the easily identified spring peepers, but an unfamiliar frog is calling – actually sort of clicking – from the far bank. An owl – one that is not a barred owl like those that lived near my old house – is hooting in a strange, quavering voice. (Wait … now that I’m paying close attention, I realize there are two.)
Once in a while, the muskrat splashes in the water. I think he chirps to himself as he goes about his business … unless there are two of them here as well.
Last night, I found a quarter-sized painted turtle in the underground garage. When I released him onto a pile of damp leaves near the pond’s edge, I shined the flashlight into the water and saw fat, healthy leeches, quick little water beetles and dozens of silver-swift minnows.
It’s a good pond. One that will help me find my place, I think.