A Welcome Sound

This past summer, the Hudson Valley was dry and hot.  Ponds disappeared, turning beautiful vistas into tableaux of mud.  Turtles abandoned a log beached in waterless ooze.  Fewer insects meant fewer birds and dragonflies.  A catastrophe, albeit of a minor sort when thought of against the world at large.

On the lake at Innisfree Garden, the lotuses, once abundant, struggled upward and failed to bloom.  Lily pads, lacking water on which to float, perched midair.

At Buttercup Farm, Wappinger Creek was nearly dry, and silence trumped sound.  Odd to think back to springtime, when the crossing was flooded, and we had to take the long way round.  Odd, too, that, by mid-summer, the tree swallows had all but disappeared from the spot where we could count on seeing them swoop past, sometimes almost close enough to touch.

This fall, after two days of soaking rain, we regained the courage to set out.  On the road to Innisfree, we saw the first evidence of hope:  the pond had water now, and the turtles had repossessed their log.  The lake had filled so much the lily pads were submerged, and a great blue heron resumed its fishing spot.

At Buttercup, yellow rumps chirped and flitted in the trees.  Ducks splashed airborne at the sound of footsteps in the leaves.  The hill path was alive with insects, and, best of all, the creek was running again, full tilt.

A welcome sound.