Every summer we would take a trip to the same place. Ever since I was a small child, we called it “The Pond”. Apparently that was my favorite part of the trip so that is what is was dubbed.
It really wasn’t a pond. It was a large puddle caused by the end of spring rain and the overflow of the lake beyond the trees. When I was small, it looked like a beautiful pond. As an adult, it just looks like a beautiful scene to take pictures of or bring out my canvas and easel to paint.
It’s funny how everything I see looks like a scene I would like to paint. I only wish I had time to capture the pond in oils so my children and grandchildren can ask about it and we can visit together as many generations as we can.
I want my children and grandchildren to ask me to take them to the pond every summer. I want my children to take their grandchildren there.
The pond is my fondest memory of childhood and adulthood.