Pondology

I have a thing for ponds. I do. Someday I will have a cabin in the woods, somewhere in Northern New England (or maybe up in the Yukon) and a 100 miles from the nearest road. I will get around on a mountain mustang and have a rifle handy so I can turn that fat red squirrel into a mid-day snack at short notice.

People who want to stop at my cabin for a coffee and a hot meal will first be required to shout,

"Halloo, the camp!"

Or risk being shot in the caboose.

But the highlight of the cabin will be my own pond. It will be as big as a skating rink and maybe 5 feet deep in the middle. My colleague John, a former field biologist, tells me that if I really want to preserve the ecosystem, I should leave it alone. Normally I would agree to that. But not on this one. I shall build that pond, fish year round and I shall ice skate on it in the winter. In the spring, I will lie beside the water's edge with the sun on my back, just me and my picnic basket and some good memories, and chew on a stalk while I watch Mr. and Mrs. Frog go at it next to a lily. In late summer, I will stand on a ridge overlooking the cabin and paint the pond from an angle whilst keeping an ear cocked for the approaching sounds of a horny moose.



All of this, of course, will mean no more health (definitely not dental) insurance. But then I will be enjoying life off the grid so much that I probably wouldn't give a sh*t. And 500 years down the road, I will be so well-preserved that whoever goes digging around there will have a few archaeological problems on his mind.

Original link to the site containing the above picture here.