UPDATED 8/30/22
Blog: Hideaway Pond–10/18/21
A hazy red sun quietly lit the horizon this morning as the last star winked out. Its rays filtered through black silhouettes of the dripping hemlock grove behind the house.
It hasn’t been the prettiest of autumns. Perhaps that‘s the will of the weather gods. Woodstock weather records state that on this particular date, it has rained 19 out ot 30 days. For years.
I hark back to the year we put in the pond. I had finished cutting and burning brush (May–Sept) just in time to bring in the bulldozer and earthmover when a 3 week spate of wet weather moved in. The bulldozer barely escaped the mire before the job was done. And some very confused fish found themselves relocated to small randomly placed ponds. Well, large puddles, if one wants to know the truth of it, However, they were very good natured about it. Though happy to return to the homey environs of a brimful Hideaway Pond.
That said, it hasn’t been a total bummer of an autumn. Mother Nature did her best to dress things up and covered the pond with a beautiful carpet of fallen leaves. The trees–maples, birch and tupelos–have hit the crescendo of their annual color chorale. Baskets of tuberous begonias still grace the eaves of the porch and front of the house.
The east coast has been disappointingly devoid of water birds this year. Last year we were visited by a few mallards. The previous year it absolutely rained mallards, wood ducks and hooded mergansers. Ornithologists speculate that the shortage has something to do with this year’s drought conditions. I’ve posted some images of previous years’ visitors.
The delicate undergrowth of the island has taken on the appearance of a curtain of rainbow hued lace. It will soon be blown away. And the area behind will once again be open to view. Yes. That view.
The coyotes continue to yip and make a fuss by the stream down the hill. Some have recently moved up behind the house. We can hear them whining and snuffling around behind the studio. No threat, but not the kind of folks you want to encounter at night in a pack. At least not me. I have no desire to become some anonymous coyote’s chew toy.
I’ve borrowed some their voices and placed them. Careful. They bite!
Bad weather often leaves behind the gift of a beautiful sky. This evening we’re the lucky recipients of one of those gifts. A waxing gibbous moon will share the sunset skies tonight. They’ll light the Catskills until morning.
“The moon is like a scimitar, A little silver scimitar, A-drifting down the sky. And near beside it is a star, A timid twinkling golden star, That watches like an eye.”
Sarah Teasdale