Teachers Write! 6/5/2012
In the far corner of my backyard there is a small manmade pond. The water, stained brown by the tannic acid from pine needles that fall to the surface, laps against the black rubber liner pinned to the ground by sand-colored flagstones . The pond is filled with water hyacinths, their tall, spiky purple blooms towering above rounded lily pads floating on the surface of the water. There are even some fish, several bright orange koi and some smaller brownish- green fish that are a puzzlement to us. How did they come to live in our pond? Small inky tadpoles gather on leaves partially submerged in the water, their presence foreshadowed by the croaking ballads of lust-struck toads and frogs in the hot, humid Texas nights. The peace and serenity of my backyard pond is marred this morning by the sounds of lawn mowers and edgers as a crew of landscapers tends to the pocket park across the street. The smell of freshly cut grass mingles with the earthy aroma of the leaf mulch piled in my vegetable garden. My barefeet , bejeweled with droplets of water left shimmering on my grass after last night’s watering, carry me back to the air-conditioned quiet of my home. Tomorrow, tomorrow will be quiet.