To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment. ~Jane Austen
Our pond, originally dug in the early 1950’s, has given people
and wildlife much happiness through the years. But over time it had filled with silt and
could no longer support fish. The herons were lucky to nab a minnow. As the soil level raised, weeds appeared. Eventually, they would have taken over. Since my grandson, Ian, badly wanted to fish, and all of
us wanted to see the pond saved and not disappear entirely, we had no choice
other than to start over. This meant eradicating what we had, a tough move that elicited groans from me.
October before last, we undertook the draining of our much-loved waterhole.
Storms and muskrats had already punched holes in the dam that should have been
made of clay but was of softer loam; it didn’t require enormous effort for son
Cory to make a much bigger gap in it. We sadly watched the water diminish. Disgruntled
geese waded in the dwindling puddle until that, too, was gone. Months followed
with no sight or sound of pond life, no photographs of sunsets reflected on the water's surface…no ice skating for two winters…
Drought settled in. During the long dry spell, our one comfort
was the thought that the sooner the muddy bottom dried up, the sooner we would
be able to bring in the big equipment and get to work.
Eventually, that day finally came, and stretched into weeks, then months. Late this past fall and winter, the pond was dug and reshaped, and the new dam packed with clay. Rows
of soil from the bottom lined our meadow like trenches in World War One. Cory and 'team pond restore' laid the
overflow pipe, built a deck, and did all the work in readiness for a break
in the dry weather. We waited and waited. The pond was like an empty crater on the moon, and just as uninhabitable. I despaired of it ever being full again.
We got some much-needed moisture in March and April, about the time forest fires were breaking out, but the bulk of the
rains have only recently come. Some rain fell in torrents, with the biggest storm hitting yesterday. At long last, our pond is brimming. Great is our excitement
(Grandson kayaking)
Daughter Elise, the grandkids, and I have planted a lot of trees
and bushes on the banks. Our goal is to bring back the wildlife. Birdsong
resounds from the meadow and surrounding trees during tranquil walks around the
pond. It’s incredibly peaceful there. We are planning further plantings,
but for now, we’re savoring the fruits of our labor. It's a magical realm.
"I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in." ~John Muir (1838–1914)
"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
"I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright." ~Henry David Thoreau
"I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. "~e.e. cummings
"The poetry of the earth is never dead." ~John Keats
"After all, I don’t see why I am always asking for private, individual, selfish miracles when every year there are miracles like white dogwood." ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh
(Goose flapping his wings behind newly planted tree)
(Grandson Owen kayaking)
(Red Wing Blackbird)
(Cory is building benches for the dock)
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