What, you thought you'd find that Madonna? The Material Girl?
Fortunately,
I've never been mistaken for the celebrity. I'm a few years older. Okay, more than a few years. And I never wear a
metal bra. In Florida's heat and humidity?
Because of our name association, we do share space on search engines.
You'll find my writing credits interspersed with her music, books, and offers to enter the bawdy side of life. Due to
her lifestyle, my book, Swinging Sisters, has popped up on porn sites. Anyone buying my book from
those sites is in for a surprise. The subject of Swinging Sisters is far removed from what
it might suggest.
So, you're wondering about Worlud Pond. Or maybe not. At any rate, here's the deal:
My husband and I live in a house with a pond in the backyard, a nameless pond. Our young granddaughter, Grace, pronounces
the word "world" as worlud. In her honor, we call our view Worlud Pond.
When asked how to get to
Worlud Pond, Grace explained, "Oh, you just go to Africa and turn left and then park and there you are."
The pond is ever-changing, the water mercurial in texture,
color, form, and movement. We've seen rainbows arch the width; spectacular sunrises in a watercolor wash of
pink and lavender and orange, full amber moons that glow like lanterns in the dark; twilight's palette of a half
dozen shades of green that Crayola hasn't yet named; the rushes and reeds shrouded in a scrim of velvet fog; easy
rain dimple the water; brisk wind churn the current into frenzied ripples; dappled sunshine creating a cracked ice effect;
leaping fish break the placid surface, snatching insects and then descending again, leaving bubbling
circles in their wake; fairies dancing at dawn on mist-shrouded lily pads; a bale of thirty-some turtles swimming in early
morning; swarms of dragonflies skimming the banks, and a great blue heron, as still as a watercolor painting, a
ghostly sentinel in the marsh, its beak poised like a spear, waiting....
Our large gator, Snappy, is gone
now; he grew to twelve feet and had to be relocated. But we have a young gator, whom Grace discovered on a visit
here and named Flower Linnet (Linnet is G's middle name). Flower was just a baby then, but she's now
about three feet and glides by daily or comes ashore to take the sun. Lethargic turtles doze nearby and birds saunter
around undaunted by the reptillian presence. Commencing in May and running through October, a hallelujah frog chorus shatters
the night from about ten p.m. until one a.m. It's like nothing I've heard before and I've not found
words to describe the sound; you must hear it to believe it.
The bird list so far includes: great blue
heron, lesser heron, night heron (my favorite), Tri-colored Louisiana heron (the ghost heron), white egret, ibis, limpkin,
gallinule, Florida mallard, whistling wood duck, anhinga, wood stork, sandhill crane, eagle, buzzard, turkey buzzard,
hoot owl, Mister Nasty (a grizzled great blue heron), and an impressive tawny red-shouldered hawk. An otter visits
occasionally and, away from the pond but in the neighborhood, I spotted a bobcat dashing across the parkway.
If you find yourself at Worlud Pond, please stroll around. It's a peaceful place.
ALL WORK ON THIS SITE COPYRIGHT MADONNA DRIES CHRISTENSEN Contact: Iowagirl1@aol.com
