Every morning - rain or sun - one of the first things I do is step outside to hear the gurgle of its waterfall. Some waterfalls “crash.” Some “trickle.” Some wash over stones, polishing them. Our waterfall gurgles.
The pond and its waterfall make their magic through a hidden pump and the occasional help of a garden hose - and magic, it is. In scarcely a month, the lilies have flourished; the water hyacinth has grown; the duckweed has spread.
The man who created the pond left us two gifts - the pond itself, and a small painting of a section of our garden. Each of these will forever remind us of the small and gentle things that bring pleasure - the birds visiting our garden, the butterflies floating on the warm air, the bees pollinating whatever they find, wherever they find it.
The pond is a paradox. Just as it is central to all this activity, it is a place of calm. Allow me to share it, and the artist’s painting, with you.
