Evolution

I know. It's controversial. That is, if it's scientific. This is not.  I was raking leaves this fall morning. Hubby has drained the pond, and the fountain no longer runs clear and bubbly down the flat rocks, around and around their circular way. The sound and sight was so pleasant this summer.  We fooled the robins, wrens, chickadees, sparrows and crows all summer; we knew it wasn't a real pond. It was actually created more than two summers ago when our Newfoundland puppy needed a place to cool off. We first attempted to satisfy the idea that we lived by the lake and doggy wanted to swim in a pool; the pool being a kiddie plastic swimming pool, donated by our friendly remodel contractor.  Nope. Didn't work. Puppy drank pool water all summer. Next the pool became a huge stock watering tank - bigger, bluer, and much closer to the actual lake concept. Nope. Still didn't work. Doggy stood by the edge, up on the porch step above it, and drank as much as he wanted, but would not set foot into the 2 and a half foot depth of our blue wonder.

A year went by. The driveway pond algaed up and grossed us out, then gave way to the brilliant concept of a fountain and contemplation pool in the yard, in the midst of the spring tulips. Pond guy and pumps were employed. Rocks and plants surrounded the stock tank, disguising it as such, and throughout 2010, it made us believe we had a unique water feature in the yard. We pretend it's a lake. Doggy still just sat by the edge, and drank out of the cool blue. Not a fuzzy foot would he put into the effort.

So, as I raked the leaves today and moved part of the stack of winter wood waiting to do its warming duty in just a month, I heard birds. Looking up there were birds. Lots of them. Flitting in and out, all over the pond rocks, in the plantings, and up and down over the turqoise edge of the now drained pond. They chipped and chattered and flitted, giving not even a nod to my presence with the rake. I walked closer, still they didn't care. At the bottom of the 2 foot lake is a mess of rotting, soggy, brown, black and barely orange/yellow leaves and one inch of water. The birds drink and eat and party all day. The dog sits at the edge watching, guarding his lake, and they could care less.  It's their time, and their place.

With enough bird droppings added to the mixture, next year we might see a little blue man walk out of the lake, ready to be marvelled at and teach us something we didn't know or believe before.  Maybe the earthworms that have taken form in there this fall will evolve into a whole new species. Can't wait for the spring thaw.  In the meantime, I think I'll head south and visit my grandson.