This year’s winter seems to have decided to drop all its snow on us on one single day in February. The next day almost all of it was gone again. The ponds and lakes of the Taunus valleys were filled to the brim and there was a rush of snowmelt water in every stream. The air was moist and filled with the sound of swirling brooks. My mind was filled with the anticipation of the recurring change of seasons.
The surface of the ponds was opaque due to the churned earth from the bottom of the streams. This heigtened the perception of impenetrability that I associate with bodies of water. There is always a sense of mystery, because you can only see a certain distance and the water may seem like a transition zone to another world. Just like in the legend about Vivien, the Lady of the lake and Lancelot in the mysterious forest Broceliande.
The silent old pond
a mirror of ancient calm,
a frog-leaps-in splash.
(transl. Dion O’Donnol)