A North Fork Pond and the Mid-Day News

It’s a gray day in the garden. A thick and sullen spring mist hangs in the air, wet and cold against my face. I walk to the backyard pond and spot two frogs, mom and pop from the well-fed size of them, sitting on the flat rocks at the water’s edge. Several of their off-spring disappear into the water too fast for me to see them as I approach. I wander the beds, deadheading daffodils. Only one thick stand near the front porch is still at the peak of its bloom. Change hangs heavy in the air like that mist. Back in the house, the TV blares in the background, an unending recital of violence and human misery. Still, as I begin to write about my time in the garden, I smile. Out there in the pond, love and family still flourish. Very different creatures share their simple joy at the warming earth. I have a book signing tonight, all good.