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Simple satisfaction
Jul. 9th, 2002 11:59 pmOne of the many wonderful things about my new house is that it is within walking distance of the town square, and therefore almost all of the everyday luxuries that a person could want. A big friendly library, the post office, drugstore, a very nice ice cream parlor.... simple bliss.
It's just a short walk to the square, and the shortest path takes you past the Mystic River, on a little dirt footpath. Sometimes this is less than pleasant - the Mystic can be rather ripe during the peak of summer - but for the most part, it's worth it.
For all that the river is littered and sulfurous, it's somehow still thriving. There are lily pads over half the surface, fish slipping back and forth in the water, and the occasional duck that will casually wander up to you and quack hello, cadging bread crusts like another passerby might ask for a quarter or the time. But the best part, for me, is the turtles.
About 20 feet out into the water is a large flat rock, upon which the Mystic Turtles congregate on sunny days. If you wander by at the right time, there are usually four smallish turtles basking there - two bigger ones nuzzled up next to each other, twining necks like elderly sweethearts, and a pair of smaller ones off to the side. They're shy; any loud noise or sudden movement on the shore will send them vanishing into the water, but if you're quiet you can watch them for as long as you want, wondering what secrets they may be meditating upon, or what reptilian gossip they're sharing.
I know this is foolish - just writing it now makes me realize how silly it is. Turtle Watching has never been high on the list of All-American hobbies, probably ranking somewhere just below lint farming. I'm weird, I know. But still, for no reason I can really describe, somehow it makes me feel good to know that there are turtles in the Mystic, basking near my home.
It's just a short walk to the square, and the shortest path takes you past the Mystic River, on a little dirt footpath. Sometimes this is less than pleasant - the Mystic can be rather ripe during the peak of summer - but for the most part, it's worth it.
For all that the river is littered and sulfurous, it's somehow still thriving. There are lily pads over half the surface, fish slipping back and forth in the water, and the occasional duck that will casually wander up to you and quack hello, cadging bread crusts like another passerby might ask for a quarter or the time. But the best part, for me, is the turtles.
About 20 feet out into the water is a large flat rock, upon which the Mystic Turtles congregate on sunny days. If you wander by at the right time, there are usually four smallish turtles basking there - two bigger ones nuzzled up next to each other, twining necks like elderly sweethearts, and a pair of smaller ones off to the side. They're shy; any loud noise or sudden movement on the shore will send them vanishing into the water, but if you're quiet you can watch them for as long as you want, wondering what secrets they may be meditating upon, or what reptilian gossip they're sharing.
I know this is foolish - just writing it now makes me realize how silly it is. Turtle Watching has never been high on the list of All-American hobbies, probably ranking somewhere just below lint farming. I'm weird, I know. But still, for no reason I can really describe, somehow it makes me feel good to know that there are turtles in the Mystic, basking near my home.
