Autumn Illuminated: Always the Pond

By day, I bathe in the golden light illuminated by the onset of brilliant reds, yellows and oranges emerging in leaves of the abundant trees that surround me. The crispness in the air stimulates the part of my brain that wants to bake things made from apples, cinnamon and pumpkins. The scent of a wood fire reminds me that it is time to cook chili on the cast iron stove and pull out my well-worn, oversized, flannel nightie.

I wander; look at the uncertain sky and remnants of the garden. I sit on the same old wide log that serves as my bench, not caring if I get pine pitch on my clean shorts and ignoring the mosquitoes that have no business being here so far into the next season. I stare out over the pond – leaves fall and land on the mirror-like surface, barely moving. Anxiety attempts to seep in when I half expect the things that I released in the thick heat of summer to rise to the top, reminding me of that which remains.

I think that something bigger is rustling about in the woods and I turn, prepared to face a bear or moose; red squirrels mock me with their shrill chatter and carry on with the exaggerated sounds of their jerky movements on the carpet of dry, dead leaves.

The chipmunk that used to eat from my hand last summer pokes its head out from a crevice in the Prayer Rock. His cheeks are filled to capacity. I speak aloud; congratulating him on his success in relocating after the Broad Winged Hawk forced him away from his home near my front porch. We continue to look at one another straight in the eyes. He pulls back, disappearing into the blackness of the small hole.

I return my focus to the pond. There are so many possible places to rest my eyes in order to find the stillness essential in maintaining the balance that I seek, yet understand is not what is necessary to prevail. The uncertainty as well as the certainty keeps me aware and alive. There is so much to see; I decide that I will look in between the physical matter and contemplate the space.

It is impossible to ignore the swaying, slender, green reeds in the pond. Two nearby leaves seem to be suspended in the air. I search for the stalk that supports them and decide that I would rather perceive them as floating.

Journal: Babies Breath (Nature) 10-11-2011.