On the Threshold of Becoming
The first evidence of ice at the pond on the day I visited. (It has since melted away.) It was forming along the shaded and sheltered southern bank. In most of the area it was this crackled, bubble filled mass...in others it was so clear you could see the leaves and lily pads in frozen suspension.
The part that most intrigued this contemplative soul was the border line...the threshold between the frozen and the liquid. The place of becoming. The little fingers of ice seemed to be reaching into the water and beckoning it in. Ice is an amazing thing to watch form and I am sure that as the pond slowly but surely succumbs to the icy grip of winter it will offer me so many new possibilities.
The trees' reflections in the pond, something I have enjoyed so much, will be erased my the encroaching ice. I was still able to create an abstract version of this frozen encounter which I call Ice Cubed. (You will see the effect better if you click on the image to enlarge it.)
I have complete faith though. I will be able to experience the pond in new and exiting ways as the winter approaches and I will see what I need to see each time I visit. That is, for me, the heart of the contemplating process...to just open up my heart and allowing the landscape to show me whatever it wishes. Relinquishing my need to control the outcome allows be to see new things.
For all of you readers who celebrate Thanksgiving Day, have a wonderful time with friends and family. I know what I am most thankful for, besides those friends and family, it is the opportunity to share my thoughts and images with all of you! I feel very blessed this year especially with my new found relationship with my little pond. The following is a quotation from Henry David Thoreau, who's writing on Walden Pond inspired me to find my own Walden here at Little Clemons Pond. I couldn't agree more with his sentiments...