June nights in The Village

Goodness!

It has been a while since I have written. I admit I, like others, have been grousing about the amount of rainy weather this month though t doesn't seem to bother my feathered friends in the pond; they simply and serenely seem to accept the weather without complaint. The sun goes in and out in these damp days. Quite honestly, from the look of the slope of the pond, the meadow flowers and grasses are thriving in these conditions. I quickly realized that the early Spring pictures I had taken and previously posted had now completely changed color and form in our beautiful landscape . Overnight it seems! So I decided to take new June pictures with my camera which portrayed lush olive and viridian grasses as well as mauves and ocher hues along with lovely burnt sienna pods. I must have them printed out soon before another rapid change takes place. Oh how important it is to really see. How many times do we look but never see the beauty right in front us as we sally forth in our day. But, I digress. It is not the "day" that consumes my thinking right now. It is the night.

When was the last time you stopped by a pond on a late dark summer evening. I promise you--there is a good chance that your childhood will leap forward into your consciousness and you will be transported, if only for a few moments, to a much simpler time in your life. The sounds of a night pond.

The other night I had to stop by the Welcome Center for something I had left at work amd was stopped dead in my tracks by the night sounds in the pond. I immediately remembered many years ago taking a walk around a pond in Maine enticingly named Witches Hole---it was completely and totally dark---we used flashlights to pick our way out and the only sound that pierced the night was the insistent splashing of beavers in the water. Very scary. Very memorable.

Well, I can't promise you splashing beavers, but I can say that if you are one of those who in your youth remember nights near a pond, croaking frogs, hot sticky summer days and dancing fireflies lighting the way-----stop by the Easton Village pond on a summer night and above all, just simply listen.

Cheerio,

Ritze