Find Your Own Pond: Sun and Stars

Welcome

This blog is a chronicle of life and the seasons at the New Concord Reservoir. The manmade reservoir lies about a mile and a half outside the village of New Concord toward the end of a country road lined with small farms and homes. A half mile long and about 150 yards wide at its widest point, it is bordered by forests on its eastern, western and northern shores. New Concord is a village in Southeastern Ohio, which, like its New England namesake, originally served a hinterland of small farms. Today, life in the village is shaped primarily by the presence of Muskingum College, a private, residential liberal arts college founded by Scots-Irish Presbyterians in 1837. The New Concord reservoir lies about the same distance from the village of New Concord as Walden pond lies from the village of Concord, Massachusetts. It is only about one quarter of the size of Walden, and no great works have celebrated it. While Walden is a natural pond, carved by receding glacial moraines, the New Concord reservoir required human intervention to emerge. It only came into existence a few decades ago, when the village created an earthen dam near the headwaters of Fox Creek, and its first function was to ensure a dependable source of water for the village. Neither Walden, nor our reservoir are notable for their extraordinary majesty or wildness; both exist in the midst of civilization rather than remote from it. In chronicling the days of Walden Pond, Thoreau sought to encourage us all to appreciate the ordinary natural world we live in rather than only valuing that which is remote and seemingly untouched by human hands. This blog is intended to encourage you to find your own Walden in your own neighborhood. Visit it frequently, learn from it, find peace and inspiration there, share it, cherish it, and protect it.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Sun and Stars

We had a few days of above freezing temperatures this week. Long enough to melt the ice off the roads, but still leave most of the ground covered in ice-encrusted snow. Today it never climbed above freezing, but was sunny and clear. For the last week it has been either run on the treadmill or don't run at all. Yesterday's six miles treadmill run was only bearable because I had a podcast of "This American Life" on my MP3 player. The brand name of the treadmill I use at the College gym is STAR TRAC. If you read the words backwards they spell CART RATS, which I am sure is a sick joke played by the machine's makers. I certainly feel like a rat running on a cart when I'm using it. But with sunny skies and dry roads, it was time to head out for my first run on the roads in over a week. The two mile run out to the reservoir was exhilarating. Once there, I walked down the still-icy path to the water to have a look and catch my breath. The brief thaw had turned the surface of the lake from snowy to glassy. The discarded Christmas trees still lay on the ice, like stiff dead sailors solemnly awaiting a burial at sea.

I walked back out to the road, and was drawn to the sounds of running, gurgling water spilling down a rill. I stood and watched and listened. Although the temperature was still in the 20s, the sun had warmed the earth enough to begin a steady melt. Given the amount of snow and ice still on the ground, I expect this rill will be flowing into Fox Creek for a long time. It was nice to walk, and I had trouble getting myself back into the run. I jogged a few steps. The sound of water was immediately overwhelmed by the sound of my feet pounding into gravel, the sounds of my labored breathing, the "svvt svvt svvt" sound of my nylon windbreaker moving with each lumbering step. I stopped and walked again. The quiet of a country walk, the increased sensory awareness it brings was so appealling at that moment. Was I just being lazy? The half-marathon is only eight weeks away, and I have a long way to go to get ready for that distance. At that moment, running was an obligation, a discipline. Walking was a vice. Still, "The Ancient Egyptians"--a song celebrating the virtues of walking was playing in my head:

Well the Ancient Egyptians, and the other Africans
The Mayans, the Incas, and all the Polynesians.
All around the world, a long long time ago,
People would walk, where ever they had to go.
They didn't have car keys, and they didn't have roads --
They didn't have those ugly convenience stores, or Texacos
In fact, all around the world, a long long time ago,
people would walk, where ever they had to go.
Well now it's the 1990's, and the gasoline does flow,
but I still try and walk most of the places I have to go
But sometimes my friends will stop and say,
"Hey Frank! There's a bus or a cab over there...
Why don't we go ahead and get in it?"
But I say no, no, no, and didn't you know,
you get to know things better when they go by slow.

I allowed myself the indulgence of a five minute walk, then picked up my pace and ran the rest of the way back to town.

***********

Tonight Katie, Liam and I went to Zanesville to see the new movie, "The Astronaut Farmer" about a guy who decides to build a rocket in his backyard, and launch himself into space. On the drive back, Liam asked if we could drive out to the reservoir, away from the light pollution, and gaze at the stars for a few minutes. We did. Even with a bright half moon in the sky, it was a good night for star-gazing. I stood on the ice-encrusted snow, but every time I craned my neck back to gaze, I increased the weight on my heels just enough to send them crunching through the glassy shell. In fact, anytime any of us took a step, the night air echoed with cracking and crunching. It was a beautiful night, but not a silent one, and very cold. "Had enough stars yet?" I asked Liam. "Sure" was his reply. "Bless you" was Katie's, who wanted to assure him that our backyard hot tub was a much more pleasant spot for star gazing on a cold, cold night.

On the drive back, I scanned the shoulder of the road for the site of a dead Turkey Vulture I had seen earlier on my run. I spotted it, and shined the brights on it to show it to Katie and Liam. "I've gotta get out here with the camera and take a picture of that," I say. "You sure have strange interests,” was Katie’s reply..