How the pond changes each day is enough reason to walk its perimeter. Now liquid as a spring day, now frozen hard, now broken and dashed about by the breeze. This winter is even more erratic; it can change in a few hour's time.
Yesterday (01/26/12) the pond was enveloped in a cool (42°) fog. It worked its wispy fingers through the pine branches and scattered across the icy surface of the pond like a lighter-than-air skater. The scene moved. Though I have seen these pines almost daily for a quarter of a century, I do not think I have ever seen them exactly the same twice.
On the opposite shore (west) the white pines stand in a firm row, with a single gap, as though a front tooth was missing. The pond holds some ice though it struggles for the surface, covered by a moderate rain. The atmosphere is white with a foggy mist.
I saw that a bag of fish food was left on the bridge area, the top torn open and spoiled by the rain. Nuggets of this food - about the size of Purina Dog Chow - litter the eastern surface of the pond. Someone feared that the fish wouldn't have enough to eat. But the winter is mild and the fish, I imagine, are safely slumbering the months away, not quite asleep, not quite fully awake with their opaque roof hard overhead.
I will continue walking the pond when the weather permits, even slightly. It is a scene that changes as surely as the sun crosses the sky.