Yesterday and Tomorrow

We saw our first bears of the year a couple of nights ago.  The night was rich with the light, sweet scent of wild roses.   A rangy, white-haired man stood in the middle of the park’s dam with his back to the pond, looking down at the field at the dam’s base.  Three bears walked across the street onto the field, a larger bear, only the size of a yearling, and two tiny bears. When they noticed their audience, the three bears cantered in single file across the field into the trees; they ran faster than I knew bears could.

Last night was all about frogs and geese.  The lone woman walking her dog left the park just after we got to it.  Three geese fed in the field at the dam’s base.  The cricket frogs in the cattails sounded like muted castanets.  As we got away from them onto the dam, more joined in and the sound was faster, louder and  like a Geiger counter.  Red-winged blackbirds, green frogs and bull frogs sang counterpoint.  Geese provided the climax, honking loudly as they flew up to the middle of the pond.  We hoped they were startled by bears.

The sun had set and the lingering blue light showed the swimming area ready for the park opening tomorrow.  Park workers had placed the red life guard platforms on the beach and dock and strung the blue and white floats around the swimming areas. Tomorrow the park will absorb, as it does, the sound of swimming children, giggling as the fish nibble their moles, calling to each other, laughing and crying, mothers  calling to the children and even the whistles of the life guards.  This place imposes its peace on the people who come here.

As we left the park the pale yellow sky over the western hills showed the first star.  In the tall grasses fireflies rained upwards.