Another Pond Walk

As much as I love the fall, I will miss the pond walks when winter comes. So I try to take a walk around the pond while I still can. These days the ducks no longer paddle in the water, the huge turtle that lives in the pond hasn’t been seen for quite a while, and the blue herons are few and far between.

For some reason, someone has put up signs with arrows along the path around the pond, which struck me funny because it’s pretty obvious that you walk the trail around the pond, signs or no signs. Go figure.

There is something quiet and peaceful about a walk around the pond. Although the rambler roses have gone by, as well as the wild flowers that make the walk so beautiful. The milkweed fluff has long gone. The seeds in the milkweed have flown and will find new places to grow. The nests of the birds who raised their young in the late spring are empty.

The pond creatures are probably ready to dig down into the mud at the bottom of the pond to sleep until spring comes. The wildlife around the pond know when it’s time to get ready for winter. Depending on what amount of snow we will get, it may not be possible to visit the pond during the cold weather.

That said, I am going to do any many pond walks as I can before winter comes. As always this time of year, I think about what I will miss when snow comes. In the past, I have struggled through deep snow around the pond; not much fun, but a good workout.

As I walked around the pond and got to the end of it, I happened to look down into the reeds, and behold and lo; there was a blue heron. He (or she) was standing stock-still, no doubt waiting for lunch to come swimming by. I walked away as quietly as I could, and wished for the heron to get a good lunch.

And as always after a walk around the pond, I felt peace. In our world today, that’s a pretty good way to feel happy for a change. When the world is too much *late and soon, I go to William Wordworth’s “The World Is Too Much With Us:”

“The world is too much with us; *late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.”

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