Elmira Pond Spotter: Learning to Dive

June 7 Morning Pond Report:

Cloudy Beginnings

Ever so quietly, an osprey glides over the pond and quickly hovers for a dive. He's low and slow. But determined. After several unsuccessful dives, he pauses in mid-flight to shake water off his feathers like a wet dog. Learning to dive for dinner is no easy task.

New Home for Transplants

Clouds build up dark and a warm wind whips ripples across the pond, stray strands of hair across my face, and yet the osprey seems impervious to gusts, never faltering in his hover. He's learning to dive, and continues to pound the pond feet-first for another 10 minutes. With a final shake of water he flies off south without a fish.

June 7 Garden Report:

Sun-Basking

It's digging in the dirt time! Before long, the wind has coated my teeth with grit, but after some weeding along the fence-line it dies down. I plant and cage the three tomatoes from Kate's Greenhouse, and set the basil plants (turns out there are four, not one) among the tomatoes. The pickling cucumbers, diva and armenias all go along a fence-line. I build several squash mounds, plant the tarragon and find a spot for a calendula plant. I'm going to try making a balm from the calendula flowers.

Horse-Napping

The garden is beginning to take shape. It's like painting, adding a dab here, building up there until a picture emerges. The horses keep me company for three hours and I take breaks to scratch their foreheads and chins. Pistol stretches out in the sunshine on his side, basking in a rest as if watching me dig is wearisome. Snapper closes her eyes and hangs her head in a horse-nap stance.

It is time for roots to learn to dive in this soil and breath new life into the transplants. I water and welcome them all to their new spot by Elmira Pond.

June 7 Late Afternoon Pond Report:

Lunch

Tuna Salad on a toasted English muffin, Spicy Thai Kettle Chips and a California apricot means it's break time. I sit on the front porch and, as if invited to high tea, Blue Heron flies in. Abandoning lunch, I manage to shoot pixels of his graceful glide so close to the water he might actually be swimming.

A goose stands on the log that is favored by the resident mergansers and the entire goose clan skims across water sparkling like flecks of mica. Goose guard is working; they still have 14 goslings, getting bigger and more distinct each day.

As ever, the pond is pretty and I dive right in, metaphorically, and snap more shots.