Things to Come ... and Go

You Miss 'Em When They're Gone

I was walking my neighborhoods long before the pup came along.

Walks have always been a way for me to rant, rave, arrange thoughts, give a rousing sermon and still have friends.

Not that I am one to keep my thoughts to myself. People who do that don't blog.

The old neighborhood had an appreciable pond on a neighbor's generous-sized lot, by the road.

The pond bed was probably a sinkhole, judging by the funnel shape the water collected in.

The road meandered lazily around that depression and various trees and shrubs filled the space between the two.

The decade or so up to that point in 2000 had been a wet one. At least once I had to turn back on my walk because the roadway was under water from the rains. Properties across the street became waterfronts.

Being genetically Canadian, I love a broody walk with overcast skies and cooler temperatures, so the detour didn't bother me. There was more than one way to meander the neighborhood.

The years closing in on Y2K were dry ones. Heat and no rain took its toll on the pond's water level.

The drought continued throughout the South. Little rain. A lot of heat.

I continued my walks past the pond, remembering the painting I had done of it with ducks in among the shoreline bushes. No ducks were there now. The waterline was way below the bushes.

As the months wore on, the pond continued to dry up. City trucks came to remove the dead fish. Groups rallied to save the turtle population that relied on the pond.

The pond became a bowl of dust.

For a long time after that, walking by the former pond was a sad affair for me.

There is something almost holy about a body of water. The interplay of light and shadow. The line drawn at the surface between the opposites of air and water. We air breathers above looking at the swimmers below, looking back at us.

The natural community whose life is supported by that body of water numbers the walk-takers as edge folk. Day trippers. Tourists.

The part of the community that could, moved on to another life-support system.

Of course, the weather turned. Eventually the rains fell again.

Slowly, the pond also returned.

But while it was empty, talk of a warming globe had my attention.

There was a practical demonstration going on right there in my neighborhood.