 As promised, the pond. Such as it is. Which, sadly, isn't much. Our water table has dropped so far that the trickle of water that comes in from
our solar powered well evaporates into the rock before it ever reaches the pond. My great hope at this point is that it has enough water to keep the geese and remaining ducks safe from predators until the first winter rains replenish it.
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The island has almost become a peninsula and the water is the color of yellowish pea soup. Today was the first time I've gone down in almost a month. I don't suppose that turning my back to it makes much sense, but there is something so very sad about watching a pond slowly dry up. However, I don't want to be just a fair weather chronicler -- even if all that remains by summer's end is a dry bed of cracked mud. Besides, the rains will come again and when the water returns, it will be more appreciated than ever.
The island has almost become a peninsula and the water is the color of yellowish pea soup. Today was the first time I've gone down in almost a month. I don't suppose that turning my back to it makes much sense, but there is something so very sad about watching a pond slowly dry up. However, I don't want to be just a fair weather chronicler -- even if all that remains by summer's end is a dry bed of cracked mud. Besides, the rains will come again and when the water returns, it will be more appreciated than ever.
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