A Nor’easter is heading our way, so there is a breeze, and the water in the pond is rippling, giving the illusion that the water is part of a grand river, flowing to its home in the ocean.
Two Canadian geese just landed with great fanfare, disturbing the water for a moment. Just for a moment. The geese are coming out of the water, waddling up the bank to our back yard, for millet in the ground feeder that we leave out for the redwing blackbirds.
The pond calms down, and resumes its previous rippling, its virtual journey to some unknown great mother watery home.
I love to watch the play of the air on the water. It distorts reality for a moment. Just for a moment.
And just for a moment I am living in the woods, living “deliberately” like Henry David Thoreau at Walden Pond. I am aware of the color of the sky, the presence of the varied birds, the increasing winds foretelling snowfall. But I am also aware of discomfort from spasticity, from heaviness weighing down my body. But that doesn’t bother me for the moment. Just for a moment. I am at peace.
It’s getting dark. Soon will be nightfall and we will be blanketed in snow. The geese will seek refuge somewhere. The water will still. I will nap. All will be well.