Summary
Bruce Stambaugh shares about a simple question his grandson asked him.
Bruce Stambaugh writes about nature, weather, hobbies and people, often using personal experiences. Much to their dismay, he also writes about his family. He uses humor and pathos when he cant think of anything else to include.
For May 19, 2011
During his last visit to Ohio, my Virginian grandson, Davis, asked me a simple yet rather analytical question, befitting the inquisitive four-year old, left-handed boy.
Davis and I were outside filling birdfeeders near the little garden pond positioned a few feet away from the back porch and just outside our kitchen window. Davis approached the ponds edge, lined with mostly flat rocks scavenged from the neighbors farm fields.
Poppy, Davis queried, Why do you have a pond?
The bluntness of the simple question gave me pause. I straightened up, and thought long and hard before I answered him. The tone and intensity of his uncomplicated question told me that Davis really wanted to know.
As I contemplated my answer, Davis waited patiently, searching for the resident frogs and trying to count the darting goldfish. His long, strawberry blonde curls bounced with even the slightest move.
I was impressed with his youthful inquisitiveness. His question piqued my own consciousness regarding the purpose of the pond. I gave Davis the long answer.
I told him that when I retired as a principal, the staff and students at one of my schools gave me a gift certificate to build a garden pond. Apparently, I had let it slip that the pond was one thing I wanted to create once my school days were completed.
Of course, all that was probably too much information for Davis to process. Perhaps it mimicked a politicians answer to a reporters intrusive direct question. Davis looked at me with his big blue eyes and repeated, But why?
I changed tactics. I gave him the words I figured he knew and that I loved.
I told Davis that the pond attracts life. I itemized a quick catalog of what I meant. The birds I enjoy watching, squirrels, rabbits, deer.
Deer? Davis quizzed long and slow, head tilted, hands thrown into the air.
I explained that although I had never actually seen deer drink there, I had found their hoof marks in the mud and snow around the oblong pool. We stepped away, and soon a chipping sparrow flitted to the gurgling little waterfall for a refreshing sip.
I could almost see Davis gears churning beneath those flowing locks. I knew the inquisition would continue.
Why do you have goldfish? Davis asked next.
I lovingly touched his curly head and simply said, So you and your brother can feed them. Davis looked up at me and smiled, as if he sensed the patronization.
The fish help keep the pond clean, I continued. They eat things that float in the water. I prayed he didnt ask for their scientific names.
My grandsons pointed question helped me step back and appreciate my little garden pond all the more. I enjoy its abundant life, the alluring sound, the attractive and useful greenery in and around the pond, along with the attraction of fur and feathered wildlife year-round.
Those intrinsic pleasures more than compensate for the necessary regular maintenance required to keep the pond in a habitable state. Now, whenever I clean the pump filters, watch birds reveal in the water and hear the frogs croak late at night, Ill remember Davis clear question, too.
I know why I have a little pond with a miniature waterfall, brilliant orange goldfish and complementary water plants. Because I like it, which is what I should have told Davis in the first place.
To read more The Rural View, visit Bruce Stambaugh at www.holmescountyjournal.com.
