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What, you thought you'd find that Madonna? The Material Girl?
Fortunately, I've never been mistaken for the celebrity. I'm a few years older. Okay, more than a few years.
And I never wear a metal bra. In Florida's heat and humidity?
Because of our name association, we do share
space on search engines. You'll find my writing credits interspersed with her music, books, and offers to enter the bawdy
side of life. Due to her lifestyle, my book, Swinging Sisters, has popped up on porn sites. Anyone
buying my book from those sites is in for a surprise. The subject of Swinging Sisters is far
removed from what it might suggest.
So, you're wondering about Worlud Pond. Or maybe not. At any rate, here's the
deal: My husband and I live in a house with a pond in the backyard, a nameless pond. Our young granddaughter, Grace,
pronounces the word "world" as worlud. In her honor, we call our view Worlud Pond.
When asked how
to get to Worlud Pond, Grace explained, "Oh, you just go to Africa and turn left and then park and there you
are."
The pond is ever-changing,
the water mercurial in texture, color, form, and movement. We've seen rainbows arch the width; spectacular
sunrises in a watercolor wash of pink and lavender and orange, full amber moons that glow like lanterns in the dark;
twilight's palette of a half dozen shades of green that Crayola hasn't yet named; the rushes and reeds shrouded in
a scrim of velvet fog; easy rain dimple the water; brisk wind churn the current into frenzied ripples; dappled sunshine
creating a cracked ice effect; leaping fish break the placid surface, snatching insects and then descending
again, leaving bubbling circles in their wake; fairies dancing at dawn on mist-shrouded lily pads; a bale of thirty-some
turtles swimming in early morning; swarms of dragonflies skimming the banks, and a great blue heron, as still as
a watercolor painting, a ghostly sentinel in the marsh, its beak poised like a spear, waiting....
Our large
gator, Snappy, is gone now; he grew to twelve feet and had to be relocated. But we have a young gator, whom Grace
discovered on a visit here and named Flower Linnet (Linnet is G's middle name). Flower was just a baby
then, but she's now about three feet and glides by daily or comes ashore to take the sun. Lethargic turtles
doze nearby and birds saunter around undaunted by the reptillian presence. Commencing in May and running through
October, a hallelujah frog chorus shatters the night from about ten p.m. until one a.m. It's like nothing
I've heard before and I've not found words to describe the sound; you must hear it to believe it.
The bird list so far includes: great blue heron, lesser heron, night heron (my favorite), Tri-colored Louisiana heron (the
ghost heron), white egret, ibis, limpkin, gallinule, Florida mallard, whistling wood duck, anhinga, wood stork, sandhill crane,
eagle, buzzard, turkey buzzard, hoot owl, Mister Nasty (a grizzled great blue heron), and an impressive tawny red-shouldered
hawk. An otter visits occasionally and, away from the pond but in the neighborhood, I spotted a bobcat dashing
across the parkway.
If you find yourself at Worlud Pond, please stroll around. It's a
peaceful place.
Contact me at Iowagirl1@aol.com
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