The Pond

THE POND

By: Ange

Copyright July 2, 1998

I had been walking for about two miles when I came upon the pond. It had been a glorious walk through the woods on a perfect fall day. The leaves were at their peak color, the sun was shining, the air was crystalline - crisp, with the faint scent of the upcoming winter.

The pond was still quite new. It had been dug, graded, and landscaped within the last year. As I sat upon the seat, which was perfectly placed to view the faraway hills through the gap in the forest, I could see that as much care and thought had been given to the construction and placement of the simple wooden seat, as had been given to the placement and planting of the landscaping.

Tall, noble firs, oaks and maples had been strategically left standing exactly where needed, and new trees and other vegetation planted so that, in ten years time, in fifty years, this would be a place of infinite peace and beauty. This was a place which had been designed, with love, for future generations to enjoy.

As I sat quietly, soaking up the serenity, I became aware of the faint sound of a chainsaw in the distance. This area had been devastated by an ice storm the previous winter, and I had noticed that much work had already been done to clear away the fallen timber. Whoever built this pond was hard at work, then, clearing away more of the damage.

Sighing, I arose and began to walk towards the sound of the chainsaw. I'd apparently misunderstood the proprietress of the lovely Bed & Breakfast at which I was staying. I should have come to the road before now. Perhaps whoever was using the saw would direct me back the right way.

As I approached, I could see that he was tall and rugged, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore sturdy leather boots, worn jeans, and a red flannel shirt tucked in over a white tee-shirt. His hair was chestnut, with a hint of auburn. As he shut off the saw, and turned to speak, I saw his eyes. Even from a distance I could see that they were a magnificent shade of green, with thick dark lashes. Eyes to dream about.

He smiled, and in a voice guaranteed to melt all but the hardest hearts spoke softly, "Hi. I'm afraid you must be lost, eh? This is private property."

The accent was French-Canadian. He was a native then.

"I'm sorry, " I said, "I think a took a right when I should have taken a left."

"No harm done, I think. But you are chilled. Come. We'll go up to the house where you can get warm, and we will figure out where you need to be returned to."

I was speechless and stood staring. As he became aware of my silence, he too became quiet and we stood gazing into each others eyes. The background noises - the wind, the skittering of small animals through the underbrush - faded away. There was only a deep awareness between us - and a deep understanding. It was the meeting of souls destined to find one another.

"I think, perhaps, you do not need to be returned at all," he said slowly.

His arms slowly gathered me to his chest, and his warm lips covered mine in a soft, sweet, gentle kiss. Without another word, we turned to leave, my hand slipping naturally into his, warm and strong, as we headed for the farmhouse which I could see in the distance. As we walked, I thought of the pond. I knew it was his, and I knew that it was my children - our children - who would enjoy the fruits of his labor. Together we would build a place which would nuture the souls of future generations.

END


	THE POND By: Ange Copyright July 2, 1998 ***All Rights Reserved. Story cannot be reprinted/reproduced without tAnge's permission.* I had been walking for about two miles when I came upon the pond. It had been a glorious walk through the woods on a perfect fall day. The leaves were at their peak color, the sun was shining, the air was crystalline - crisp, with the faint scent of the upcoming winter. The pond was still quite new. It had been dug, graded, and landscaped within the last year. As I sat upon the seat, which was perfectly placed to view the faraway hills through the gap in the forest, I could see that as much care and thought had been given to the construction and placement of the simple wooden seat, as had been given to the placement and planting of the landscaping. Tall, noble firs, oaks and maples had been strategically left standing exactly where needed, and new trees and other vegetation planted so that, in ten years time, in fifty years, this would be a place of infinite peace and beauty. This was a place which had been designed, with love, for future generations to enjoy. As I sat quietly, soaking up the serenity, I became aware of the faint sound of a chainsaw in the distance. This area had been devastated by an ice storm the previous winter, and I had noticed that much work had already been done to clear away the fallen timber. Whoever built this pond was hard at work, then, clearing away more of the damage. Sighing, I arose and began to walk towards the sound of the chainsaw. I'd apparently misunderstood the proprietress of the lovely Bed & Breakfast at which I was staying. I should have come to the road before now. Perhaps whoever was using the saw would direct me back the right way. As I approached, I could see that he was tall and rugged, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore sturdy leather boots, worn jeans, and a red flannel shirt tucked in over a white tee-shirt. His hair was chestnut, with a hint of auburn. As he shut off the saw, and turned to speak, I saw his eyes. Even from a distance I could see that they were a magnificent shade of green, with thick dark lashes. Eyes to dream about. He smiled, and in a voice guaranteed to melt all but the hardest hearts spoke softly, "Hi. I'm afraid you must be lost, eh? This is private property." The accent was French-Canadian. He was a native then. "I'm sorry, " I said, "I think a took a right when I should have taken a left." "No harm done, I think. But you are chilled. Come. We'll go up to the house where you can get warm, and we will figure out where you need to be returned to." I was speechless and stood staring. As he became aware of my silence, he too became quiet and we stood gazing into each others eyes. The background noises - the wind, the skittering of small animals through the underbrush - faded away. There was only a deep awareness between us - and a deep understanding. It was the meeting of souls destined to find one another. "I think, perhaps, you do not need to be returned at all," he said slowly. His arms slowly gathered me to his chest, and his warm lips covered mine in a soft, sweet, gentle kiss. Without another word, we turned to leave, my hand slipping naturally into his, warm and strong, as we headed for the farmhouse which I could see in the distance. As we walked, I thought of the pond. I knew it was his, and I knew that it was my children - our children - who would enjoy the fruits of his labor. Together we would build a place which would nuture the souls of future generations. END**