One of us has been sick; until last week we hadn’t visited
our park for two weeks.
For the last couple
of evenings, we’ve returned. The ponds
are still there. Deer browsed in the apple grove at the mouth of the Park,
some of them with new, fuzzy horns.
We saw a hawk on a
dead branch on a live tree, statue still, guarding prey in the lower pond. Two
cars were parked in the parking lot, but we saw no people.
Golden
Wisps of cirrus ribbons in the east and solitary wisps of cirrus over the western
hills slowly changed color to pink.
While we were on the dam, geese
flew over our heads, their hysterical honks breaking the silence. They landed in the middle of the pond. honking
and back-pedaling. We counted nineteen
of them, one short of the last count. We saw feathers floating on the pond.
We walked from the
dam to the middle of the new bridge. We
like to listen to the frogs there and look for turtles. The cricket frogs have silenced now, but the green frogs and bullfrogs still sound. Ox saw a muskrat, swimming under the bridge
towards the greater pond. A minute later
we saw the silver wake across the far side of the pond then the muskrat disappeared. This was our greatest thrill since the last
beaver was removed from the pond a few years ago. Yesterday Ox saw a turtle, playing dead man’s
float with its nose at the surface until Ox spoke to it in a soft voice.
The turtle alerted, looked at him and dove to the bottom.
Our walks in the Park feed me equanimity and joy.. My soul
shrinks without them.
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