Library Pond was covered with snow the last time I visited, and I miss it.  Inserted between 2 roads, a soccer field and a parking lot, it is the tamest wilderness imaginable.  The bunnies and robins find the flat, mown paths as handy as the runners and bikers and slow-poke walkers.  Grackles and barn swallows criss-cross the skyway over the water, feasting on mosquitos as they go.  There is enough silence for tree frogs to hear themselves think and for me to briefly find a meandering state of mind.  And yesterday I needed very much to not go anywhere.

The pond was milky with clouds and silt, but the air was fresh and sweet.  Wild grapes crawled through the viburnums, dragging low-hanging branches towards their hungry vines; raspberry canes tugged at my sleeves with their thorns.  Everywhere I looked, emerald leaves faced the late afternoon sun, unflinching as it poured through them, extracting life from light.

I always see something at Library Pond.