It demands careful steps to tramp around this pond. It appears neglected although it harbors the remnants of more prosperous times. There are the bases of ancient, rusting lamps, marking the overgrown paths. Elderly, huge trees have broken limbs, having succumbed to wind or snow or age. Their remains provide an unreliable canopy, and their fallen branches or trunks blend into the ground, looking drawn and skeletal.
This small world, surrounded by noise, light, and traffic, sits in its own stillness. Its animal and vegetable inhabitants don't need our human contributions - the lamp post stumps or the muddy paths. There is nothing wrong here and nothing right - it just is.
Today, what I love about this place is the collision between what we have added over the years and the easy, uncomplicated composting that goes on without our attention. As we ignore this place, our artifacts return to a pointless beauty that we didn't expect or intend.
Somehow, that's just fine.