Veronica

4/30/10
So I’m outside on my deck as the light is fading.  8:30 maybe.  It’s early since it’s still spring.  I have a spot where there is an angle in the deck that looks out over the yard and our pond, and where my fish pond originates.  It’s like my pulpit.  I lean over it many nights and watch the light fade over the woods.  Tonight it faded quickly since it’s early in the year, but as it went, I watched the frogs in my fish pond croak and honk and flirt.  As ponds go, it’s not much.  It’s not that big.  But it flows from under the deck out into a small pool and then to a larger pool. Over the years, it has become its own ecosystem, with frogs and fish spawning, living and dying in it, and all manner of vegetation making itself home. 

There is a section near the head where the periwinkle is in full bloom and the ferns and iris and astilbe and hostas are just coming up.  It is so green and peaceful during the summer,  and so vibrant and hopeful in the spring.  My little pond is a four season pond, with interesting things happening year around.  But spring is special.  In the spring, since everything is coming up, nothing is dominant and everything you have ever planted is visible. 

I’d cut the grass earlier, so the scent of new cut grass was mingling with the lilac and mint in the air.  The frogs were chirping and ducks were floating past on the big pond. 

I’d been thinking of Veronica as I was mowing earlier, and I got to thinking about Veronica then.  I thought of leaning over the pulpit with her, and holding her, and gently stroking and rubbing her back and watching her as she looked down and saw the flowers and pond and fish.  I thought of her smile and her dark eyes looking down and then up at me in the fading light as she turned and I leaned in to kiss her gently.  I’d love to hold her and kiss her while at my special place, all while smelling the spring like I am right now.  It was all I could think of tonight.