I like that about myself. When I was young, I was always very scornful of adults afraid of anything that might give them any trouble–an old house, a dog, a vegetable garden.
So, I hope it’s not a sign of some new maturity that last fall, when I looked down at my little artificial pond and asked–Put the goldfish in the basement once again? Spend the winter lugging dirty water up the stairs and fresh water down?–the answer was a definite, No way.
So I tossed the fish into the natural pond at my country place, where they join a longstanding population of goldfish that never seems to get out of hand, thanks to the patronage of visiting Great Blue Herons.
This year, without four eight-inch goldflish ripping it to shreds, my hardy waterlily is so beautiful, it is a joy to behold. Waterlilies like still water–and wind up looking ragged if they are too battered by fishtails.
I hate to think that there is beauty in simplicity. But maybe it’s so.