There is gathering place in my garden where I commune
with nature. Downy feathers floating on water, blazes of guano on rocks and
footprints in snow on ice are all evidence of avian visitors. Uprooted plants
and tracks in the mud tell me that raccoons have been searching for sustenance
here and my cat makes a beeline to drink from this pond’s fresh water. I watch the
pond in all seasons. In winter I spy from my kitchen window through the bare
branches of the dogwood tree. On a
summer’s afternoon I watch, as I relax with a cup of tea in hand, from a strategically
placed plastic garden chair. I often observe a myriad of visitors up close by crouching
low on the pond’s banks.
This watering hole is my creation. I put a shovel to the
ground to build some habitat in a distressed patch of woodland. I sculpted
ledges for plants, depths and shallows for breeding and bathing, and a pebbly
beach as access for the waders-in. I placed a black rubber liner to prevent
water from draining into the sandy base. I hauled boulders and stone to create
a natural boundary and to hold the liner in place. I turn on a pump in summer
months to recirculate and aerate the water, to keep it fresh and to deter
mosquitos from multiplying. I spread a net in the fall to prevent a build up of
leaves.
Yet this artifice is a window to many dimensions of nature.
Water brings sound, movement and an ever-changing palette of color. It splashes
and ripples, gurgles and bubbles. It reflects the sky, clouds, leaves and winter
trees. Birds flap their wings and sip through their beaks in this essential
element, which also provides a nursery for insects and frogs. And so nature
takes over from the man-made and an ecosystem is built. Plants aerate and clean
the water, some scramble over the rocks, greening the boundary. Pond lily leaves
are landing pads for insects. Along with duckweed they keep the pond from
overheating by covering open water. Stems thrust above the surface and bear
colorful flowers that attract bees and butterflies. Etched by glaciers or the
movement of the earth, each rock carries its own mystery of how it was formed. Some
are speckled and rough with granite, some are a smooth blue-grey and some twinkle
with mica. All of this has replaced a dry clearing in a suburban garden.
A pond nourishes and shelters. It is a place to
gather thoughts, soothe a soul and find serenity. Henri David Thoreau referred
to Walden Pond as “Earth’s Eye, a place to measure the depth of one’s nature”.
Even a much smaller mirror of a pond has such a power, whether its surface is
white with snow, sparkling in sunlight or reflecting grey skies. I see birds
bathing in the January thaw, the flash of a hummingbird visiting a cardinal
flower, the plop of a frog diving for cover. Life goes on, no matter our
misgivings about the state of the world.
