The Ducks

Whenever a home in my neighborhood goes up for sale, the ad always says the same thing: “waterfront property.” Now that just tickles me, cuz it immediately conjures up visions of being somewhere on the lake, sipping iced tea while sunning on a lounge chair, while your kids jump off your dock and swim. …While waiting for their turn for a thrill ride behind your boat that your hubby is bouncing off of waves. This vision is perfectly supported by the fact that there is a humongous lake nearby that was created by the electric company’s dam years ago. The reality, however, is that we are nowhere near a lake, only a small pond that has a patch of “community” property with a picnic table and a tree house bordering it. It was a clever ruse to attract buyers when the neighborhood was built 30 years ago, and it still works today. Sometimes, from just the right window, and just the right angle, it can even be seen it from my house. It’s easier in the winter when the trees are bare.

Mostly, we just know we are near water, because we have a terrible mosquito population. They don’t bother me much, but my hubby, who must taste like sweet nectar to the critters, has to run to his car or face being eaten alive by those little vampires. We manage the yard work looking like beekeepers …long sleeves and pants, heads covered, and work gloves, …even in 100+ heat.

The one thing we do enjoy is the ducks, and occasionally geese. They have discovered our little pond, and each year we have a family of fuzzy ducklings parading around the neighborhood. As they get older, they look for handouts, and make a waddle-by approximating clockwork a few times a day. This afternoon, as my grandson and I returned from an outing, they spotted us and came running. I ducked into the house for a slice of bread, while he made friends with the ducks.