At the water’s edgePosted: March 6, 2013
Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.
~ Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad
I explored the edges of the pond today. The storm that is harassing the east coast turned out to be not much of anything here in the Bogs. I can’t say for sure but I think our usual snowfall totals are down again this year. I don’t know what that will mean for the water table, and the summer months. Then again, the pond level seems to be pretty high so perhaps we’ve had enough rainfall to make up for the lack of snow.
We woke up to a light dusting of snow. The sun came out and most of it had melted by the time I went out for my morning walk. Several ducks were out on the pond, swimming and feeding.
At the water’s edge, the sun was sparkling through the weeds and grasses. The water, which is really a greenish-brown color at this time of year, reflected the blue of the sky, the white of the clouds, and the silver and golds of the sun.
All sorts of things happen at the edge of the pond. Pond weeds meet with land weeds. Waves created by the wind wash up and back, up and back.
When the weather warms up, fish will ripple the water and muskrats will splash. Turtles will poke their heads up like periscopes, scanning to see what’s happening at the surface.
Thousands, perhaps millions or billions, of other things happen at the edge of the pond, things we don’t notice or can’t see. For now, though, it looks as though it is just the water, the waves, the sunlight, and the plants.
There are a few trees close to the water. The one pictured above hangs over the pond. M has been wanting to attach a rope swing to it. It’s one of those things he hasn’t gotten around to doing yet. I’m not convinced it’s a good idea. The tree leans over so far that I’d be afraid the first time someone tried to swing from it, the poor tree would topple over into the water. I suspect I’m wrong about that. The tree holds me well enough when I lean against it, and seems pretty solidly rooted.
You’ll find other things on the shoreline of the pond. Rocks and leaves live under the water and around the edge. Feathers sometimes float on the surface.
They both listened silently to the water, which to them was not just water, but the voice of life, the voice of Being, the voice of perpetual Becoming.
~Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
At the edge of the pond, you can listen to the water. It sings, it talks, it hums.
If you listen carefully, the water might tell you tales of how it came to be here, how some of it once came from distance lands, drifting along in a cloud until one day it rained and brought the water here, to this very pond.
Or, if you don’t wish to hear stories, you can objectively observe the health of the pond. Look, touch, smell, listen. I think there will be a lot of plant growth and algae this year, and I wonder what we can do to try to control it so the fish won’t get choked out.
That’s about it from the edge of the pond and from the Bogs for today. Thank you for joining me by the water’s edge. Have a sweet and delightful day, evening, night… whenever and wherever you are on the spectrum of time. :)
And I feel like the Queen of Water. I feel like water that transforms from a flowing river to a tranquil lake to a powerful waterfall to a freshwater spring to a meandering creek to a salty sea to raindrops gentle on your face to hard, stinging hail to frost on a mountaintop, and back to a river again.
~ Maria Virginia Farinango, The Queen of Water