By the Water's Edge

No Date


          A cool breeze. The scent of pine. The stillness of the water. Birds play at the water's edge. Dragonflies dart through the reeds. Fish hide under lily pads. A weekend camping trip by the lake? No…my less than a quarter acre backyard with pond.
          When I first bought the house, the only things in the backyard were a couple of crepe myrtles in the far corners, a few small red-tips along the edge of the property, and a lone mimosa smack in the middle. The mimosa died soon after I moved in and had to be removed. The backyard was dubbed “the great Savannah plain” by my wife Lynn and daughter Carrie because it was so wide open.
          I planted some pine, a few cedar, and a willow to get a woodland feel and some shade. It needed something else. One Saturday when I had nothing else to do, I took the better part of the day to dig a hole where the mimosa used to be. (Being not in good shape, I thought it would take several days.) It has been a work in progress since.
          What has been surprising is the amount of enjoyment we as a family have received from this hole filled with water. Watching the growth of plants in and around the pond is a source of constant wonder. My green thumb is more a shade of brown. We're often amazed at the height of the reeds transplanted from a nearby ditch, some over six fee; the many leaves of water lilies that cover over a third of the pond; and the yellows, reds, and pinks of the flowering cactus, caladiums, and water lilies.
          In the morning or early evening, we like to feed the fish—originally about a dozen 24 cent goldfish, now grown to 5-6 inches. Sometimes we do this as a family (dog included), sometimes alone; but there always seems to be something peaceful…soothing…in watching these huge goldfish swim about sucking up the flattened flakes of food. One winter the pond actually froze over and we watched as they swam about under the ice. In the spring, we look expectantly for baby fishes. Many have survived, in a variety of colors other than gold (some with black, some all brown, one or two white), to become part of our school.
          Spring also heralds the arrival of an amphibian or two. Our youngest daughter, Catherine, has seen first hand as scores of eggs become tiny tadpoles. Not all of the eggs make it that far and only a few of the tadpoles get very big. I believe visiting birds or the fish have enjoyed a tasty delicacy. Even so, the deep throated songs of the adults serenade our suburban home with a nighttime woodland lullaby.
          Our little pool has also hosted a variety of winged creatures. We've seen the glistening blue-black crow, brilliant red garbed cardinal, the somber dusty gray dove. The pond has become their little Greek public bath, their mini Irish pub; a place to meet for a dip and a drink. But my favorite winged guests have to be the dragonflies. Metalic blues and greens zipping through the reeds; hovering on crystaline wing over lily pads; resting in the sun on a rock—these beautiful insects add aerial life to the still water.
          But the birds and fish and frogs aren't the only ones who like to play in the water. On hot summer days, Catherine and her friends love to sit on the edge and soak their feet. I fixed a place just for that purpose—I knew the temptation would be too great. There are also stepping stones to cross or squat on to watch the fish. Our grandsons, Arthur, 3, and Ethan, 1, are constantly intrigued by the water's edge. (I get up a lot to make sure they don't try to walk on water.)
          Our backyard pond certainly is a great source of enjoyment, aesthetically and educationally, for the entire family. But you know, I wouldn't pass up an occasional weekend camping trip by the lake.