Puddle Jumping

The rains have continued. Yesterday during a brief lull, I visited the pond and studied the water levels more carefully. A log that I once sat upon is now on the very edge of the water.

This was my view from the log just last month. 

December's Pond

September's Pond

Bark dust was completely submerged throughout one stretch of the path, and I had to work my way along the tangled roots to the side in order to keep my feet somewhat dry. I loved the way the overhanging boughs were captured in the reflection.

I did notice how stark and barren the once-secluded bend in the path now feels. The empty tree branches create greater visibility throughout the area, which means I can no longer stand in the middle of the path and feel like man-made structures are far from me. Homes and fences, though the same distance away as they've always been, now peek through the boughs.

It seems a bit silly to feel that as a loss, but I do love the idea of being tucked away among verdant foliage with only flora and fauna in sight. I'm not yet yearning for summer, but I know the day will come. In the mean time, we listen to the rain . . . and even hear the reports of a tornado just to the north!