If we had keen vision of all that is ordinary in human life,

it would be like hearing the grass grow or the squirrel’s heartbeat,

and we should die of that roar

which is the other side of silence.

George Eliot

 

Water moves always and with it brings life. The water tumbling down the hillside gurgles and runs over rocks, through channels, around and over stones washing minerals from the soil. At the foot of the hill, it slows and deposits some of that content and the tree roots, shrubs, and flowers drink their fill.

The cypress trees love the pond and grow all around its edges. They send up roots called cypress knees –roots gasping for air. Ducks glide across the glassy surface or waddle along the banks searching for bugs to eat through the grasses and around the pond, but never far. An elderly couple delight in feeding the ducks and geese from a bag of bread pieces just beside the sign that reads, “Please don’t feed our waterfowl.”

The ducks lay eggs in grassy hollows along the water’s rim and hunt for bugs and minnows beneath the water plants. They plan to raise their ducklings and goslings right here where there is plenty of water and free food. Nevermind the children who chase them with glee and the odd rations. There are no coyotes or foxes here.

In spring buses bring folks to see the first stirrings of the year, to cheer themselves with tulips and dogwood, redbud, and magnolia.

In the summer flowers bloom and children run and play in the shady park.  Sprinklers move the water and keep things green in the heat.

In the autumn the water flows to give drinks to thirsty roses, zinnias, and chrysanthemums. The leaves turn color and begin to dry in the wind and fall to the ground where they carpet the ground  with brown and float like late boats on the pond.

In winter cars loads of grandmas and children drive slowly through the park to see the Christmas lights and listen to carols while sucking on striped candy canes. In the pond’s center is a great white swan lit up and as big as a Buick. She gleams and glows in majestic glory.

 

Published by Elece

I am a photographer and a freelance writer. I write stories, poetry, gift books, and magazine articles––both print and online. Photographing children, places, and especially flowers is my hobby.

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