Stephen Maier                                                                   13 September 2009

Wall Pond

As I am nestled in a clearing between overgrown grass and the banks of the pond the clock strikes three.  Wall Pond is bustling with wildlife. From the calls of a crow resting high in the branches of an evergreen to the perpetual chirping of crickets in the field surrounding me, I feel as though I am part of nature. The water of the pond is littered with lilies; the end of summer approaches and the pink flowers are in full bloom. They are putting on a show for the fauna that call this place home. A young bird cries for his mother in a tree on the edge of the pond opposite the crow. The life inside the water keeps up its continuous serenade as the clouds crawl slowly overhead towards the Clark Art Museum. The sun pokes its head out occasionally when the clouds permit and human visitors take advantage of the view when this occurs. A dragonfly lands on my keyboard as I type and departs when I touch the key he has claimed for his landing pad. A fly quickly takes the dragonfly’s place and then leaps to the screen panel and dances for me. As I scan the pond for its eccentricities, I notice two dragonflies mating in air while others find resting pads in the water’s edge’s flora. Among these plants are beautiful, tiny flowers with purple petals and yellow stigmas. Some tall yellow, grass-like growth inhabits several sections of the banks. On the edge closest to the Museum live more than a dozen trees with stature greater than fifty feet tall. Twenty minutes pass with little activity until a flock of ducks startles me while franticly escaping danger. The predator is a cute Labrador Retriever, chocolate in color, clenching a fluorescent orange toy in his teeth. He runs into the water and swims after the birds in an attempt that seems to be playful and amiable. He is totally harmless in his efforts, but the ducks cannot fathom this. They cry for help loudly, but it lasts for only a couple minutes. The dog swims back to shore and the ducks carry on with their diving below the water’s surface.  The water is still save the locations where the ducks are swimming and fishing. A visitor sneaks up beside me to capture the beauty of the site in a still frame. And another does the same on the opposite side of the pond. As I revisit the trees, I notice one evergreen in particular that is intriguing. It appears to be in the midst of falling into the water, but I assume this is the way it grows to seek sunlight amongst the rest of his brothers and sisters within his ten-foot radius. Nearly all branches are enjoying the breeze, as I am, but two or three seem to be taking a dip in the pond. Forty-five minutes have passed and the ducks are quiet, but the crow has returned and made his presence known and the crickets are relentless. For the past fifteen minutes I have been exploring different views and perspectives of the pond. All paint the same pretty picture: water lilies scattered throughout the lively pond, leaving the middle unoccupied, and plenty of company to utilize its valuable resources. The insects love the stagnant water; the ducks love the fish and apparently the lily pads; the dog loves the ducks; the plants and trees love the water; the birds love the trees and the worms that likely live in the wet soil; and the humans love the scenic portrait. If one were to glance at Wall Pond, he/she would assume there is not much happening. But to the interpreting observer, there is a whole new world that goes undiscovered. My excursion comes to an end as the clock reads four, and the ducks voice their goodbyes to me. I return the favor and promise to return again.