I came to the back dock of the pond today to write about it and take a nap next to it. In the shaded spots on the water, the top of the pond acts like a mirror and reflects back to the trees a picture of themselves, the undersides of their leaves and branches hanging down tendue towards the water, where outward-running ripples run just into each other and make those curved diamond shapes that shimmer back and forth and don’t stay very long. When there’s a little breeze they go even more quickly, but a minute later it might be still again and almost perfect glass. There are spots in the shade where holes in the branches dapple the water and that mirror turns into a window. Where the sun hits the pond, the water’s clear enough to see straight to the bottom, where the leaves have come off the trees above and stay with the growing glasses on the floor of the pond, each hanging out with the other, and the sun goes down to them both without knowing the difference.
If I could shuttle back and forth between just camp and coffee shops for the rest of my life, I think I'd be happy with that forever. Trees and teas.
Actually, maybe not. Give me the ocean, give me tall cities, give me the dry desert, give me trains, cars and planes. Give me whatever life looks like.
One life, to go, please.
and the countdown begins.....love you
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