Last week, I took a walk through the golden days of autumn — and I mean that in the most literal way possible. As far as my eyes could see, goldenrod glittered among tall and rustic-looking grasses.
Vibrant reds and yellows and oranges dusted the canopy of a distant treeline, serving as evidence of nature’s cyclical inevitability; we are now in the throes of autumn.
Above, the branches of maple and beech trees curved down toward me in arches; a dirt path wound its way through this natural gateway to a place that’s as close to heaven-on-Earth as I’ve ever been: A small vernal pool in the middle of a cluster of trees.
Standing at its muddy edge, I beheld an indescribable peace — the kind that sinks into your bones and soothes a weary soul.
There was no reflection in the pool’s shallow depths; no glistening waves or circular ripples from water bugs or singing frogs; there were no herons stalking its shallows. Instead, in studying the water, I found a simpler kind of beauty: teal algae covered its surface like a thin layer of skin.
It was at once beautiful and curious.
The inquirer in me wanted to know what exactly it was — to say its name and understand its lifecycle. I was reminded of an earlier walk down another nearby trail, to the end of a boardwalk overlooking a lake, where I witnessed a group of ducks feasting on a similar kind of algae. They appeared to be working together, advancing in formation and vibrating their beaks in the water like jackhammers through concrete.
I was also enamored by the beauty of the space.
The pool’s simplicity held quaint charm — undoubtedly, it was an ecosystem to itself — and its color did not seem natural. It did, however, possess unshakeable intentionality. The teal coloring was a perfect inverse to the goldenrod. Further, it stood in bright contrast to the drab tree stand within which it was nestled.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought an artist had, perhaps the night before, crept through the darkness and dumped a bucket of teal paint into the pool.
Illuminated by a red sun, it had the same visual effect that a brightly colored ottoman might have when placed in the center of a living room painted in more subtle tones.
After studying the pool for a little while, I concluded that it must be Mother Nature’s accent piece, indued with algae to be a bright spot amid an otherwise rustic autumnal atmosphere.
Its mere presence enhanced the beauty of everything else — the tall grasses; the turning maple trees and the fading beech trees; the dying underbrush and even the vibrant goldenrod.
For while the goldenrod was certainly beautiful on its own, I might not have been so struck by the wonder of that place if not for the pool.
Andy Castillo is the features editor at the Greenfield Recorder. He can be reached at acastillo@recorder.com.