Fall Back to Fisher Pond

   I called my friend early one morning and invited her to walk the trail around Fisher Pond. We are both city girls who worry about getting muddy feet. I reviewed my plan when she questioned if the recent rain would make the trail impassable. I reassured her that we must think like Northwesterners and brave the elements.  My interest in being a naturalist is a new thing, not really my nature but I admire those who live outdoors most of their day. They see things I don't see and talk about the deep feeling they have for the natural world. When I put on my water-proof shoes, my raincoat and leave my purse at home, I feel I am going on an adventure.

My grandchildren and I had tumbled along the path in the height of summer and I was curious to see the difference in autumn. The summer sun had shimmered on the pond and made the green water-plants shift slowly like a moving meadow.  

Now the green plants are brown and drying up.Perhaps ice-skating does happen if the pond freezes. I couldn't imagine it with the summer plants covering the surface.

 I noticed the path was strewn with fallen, decaying leaves making a variegated pattern of yellow and gray.This was the same path my little Moonbeam had walked with over-eager steps.

 With some leaves gone the view through the trees revealed distant borders of the preserve. With the curtain of foliage thinning I could see the changes colors; from green to yellow, from red to brown.

     We met some fellow walkers running, meditating, and picking berries. I feel somewhat sheepish thinking that I rarely go commune with nature. It adds something that sitting in front of a computer, writing, just does not produce. I feel humbled by my foray into the wild; I'm not the center of this creation. I don't shine as brilliantly as the decaying fern in the middle of the green frame.

   I am grateful for the day. I was accompanied by a valued friend and had a front row seat to the best color show on my rock.