Is This a Farewell to the Pond?

These may be the last pictures I ever post of our koi pond.

The verdict was given this morning as we prepared to drive to Grandma's funeral.

Steve came in from the front yard with the news: the pond liner was torn in several places from the hailstones that pelted it yesterday afternoon.

Fortunately, he has a few days off this week to take care of the matter.

But as he thought about the pros and cons of replacing it or tearing it down, and of our need to have a vacation free of worry over pond maintenance, and our desire to travel long distances in the future years, he decided that now was the time to end his love affair with the koi pond.

She required so much attention, which he was more than willing to give over the years. His dedication to her care and beauty, transforming her from a newly dug 12 foot circular pond into a 30 foot oblong pond, is commendable.

But he couldn't take her with him on vacations, and couldn't provide for her proper care in his absence. If he were to die, or be crippled, he would be unable to maintain her in the condition she has become accustomed to. There would be no one to take care of her as he had taken care of her. Even I would be unable to do the things he had to do to keep her healthy and working properly.

I never competed with her for his attention. She was far more beautiful than I. Her charms even seduced me on late spring afternoons, early summer mornings, and late summer evenings. Dragonflies darted about during their mating flight, laying their eggs among the Iris bulbs and rocks. Toads and frogs called to each other at night in the summer, a cacophany of shrill and bellow, loud enough to drown out Big Brother. Butterflies played among the flowers, and moths performed their death-dance above the pond around the Zapper. Birds came for the water, and even a turtle could be found hiding in the bottom of the pond. Snakes, spiders, water bugs... all came to the pond for their needs. With binoculars in hand, standing on the deck, we could observe it all close-up and in safety, without disturbing the rituals being performed among the stones and plants in the pond below.

Even so, the fall brought out her best colors, lending an amber glow to her water surface. Sometimes, it would be the three of us together in the yard, enjoying in silence the stillness and wonderment of God and nature. Peaceful and sweet were the sounds that emanated from the depths of her soul.

Yet, even so, she cannot take care of herself. The fish who swim within her body of water thrive as long as conditions are optimum for their living. Should her keeper stay away too long, and should a pump stop working or become clogged, or the ultra-violet light burn out, or the water were to become unbalanced... or any number of things that could interfere with the balance of life in the pond... the fish would die. Fish that could easily, if taken care of properly, live to be fifty or a hundred years old! I know Annie made it that long, God bless her, but I don't know that we will!

He can no longer bear the burden of her upkeep. It is best to let her go, to let her become a memory of his past, of our past.

He plans to start tomorrow. I took the photos above to show only the surface damage. Certainly, the plants will grow back, but the liner is damaged, and the work to replace it is indeed a heavy labor. He has done it three times before. I think he needs a break.

He may bring her back later when we're sure we no longer desire to travel for two or three weeks out of the year. After all, gas prices are rather high right now. However, we do talk about traveling every year, and every year, we go no further than a two or three day trip because we need to get back home for the pond. I'd like to be able to travel without such worries myself.

So, I'm here to say "It was nice knowing you, koi pond. You were a great friend, comforting, soothing, always there in all kinds of weather, ever changing, ever beautiful through every season. I will miss you! Thank you for all your gifts and for making our yard and home a sanctuary."

The fish will be transported to another local pond, bigger than this one. I will miss them too. They will be happier there.

I look forward to traveling ... west, south, ... north, ... to Alaska, to Colorado, to the Grand Canyon, to other states I have never visited before.