how pond house got its name

Beloved moved here in the winter of 1997 on an overcast february day. at the time, the house was a very little house on a lot of land. the best part about it were the gardens, the extensive stonework, and the way the house had been situated, overlooking two ponds. the picture above shows the upper one, in spring. the lower pond is connected to the upper one by a waterfall. it's been so wet this year the waterfall, which usually dries up by now, is still running.

it was clear, fairly soon after Beloved moved in, that this place wasn't quite... ordinary.

for one thing, it had a little bit of a history and some mystery attached to it - the man who built the house and grounds obviously put a lot of himself into it. working alone, he'd created the terraces and gardens and tumbled walls. and he'd died alone in the house... and his body had been here a week or more before anyone came looking. but it was more than that - the place had an energy to it, as if whoever had made it had understood, even if only subconsciously, how energy flows. steve, the original owner - called the place Deer Run - for all the deer that used to come and drink from the ponds until buddy started scaring them off.

but the deer, even before buddy, were fleeting and elusive. the ponds form the centerpiece. mornings and evenings, we watch them fluctuate and change, subtlely different every year, and so captivating is their spell, they make television seem irrelevant. even my grandmother admitted, propped up deep within a corner of the couch, "it sure is peaceful here."

it happened almost at once. we started to call the place pond house right from the start.

at the top of the driveway, a cast iron cut-out sign used to say Deer Run. a few years after Beloved moved here, i gave him a new sign for his birthday... one that says Pond House. we hung the old sign from a tree overlooking the lower pond, where the deer - and steve - can still see it.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.