Cornell Pond, Dartmouth, MA
I have always listened to the way air moves around me; the sound of a bee buzzing, the subtle shift of the wind, a whisper that brushes the tips of my ears as it changes direction. As I slip out of my Uggs and into my hiking boots, I breathe in the fresh gust of air, delivered by the trees as if it were a gift just for me. I lock my car, and spin to start my walk down the scenic trail to my left, unfamiliar with the trail or where it leads. Each step is accompanied by the crunch of cracked acorns and the squish of wet dirt, a familiar sound from the rain showers of the day before and the recent foraging of squirrels.
Cornell Pond is nestled in Dartmouth, Massachusetts, a peaceful spot tucked away in the southeastern part of the state, not far from Buzzards Bay. I’m not entirely sure what drew me here, other than it being the first place that came to mind when I heard the details of this assignment (an assignment that seemed to perfectly align with the theme of my new blog). My attention is drawn away from the clatter of my boots on the planks behind me; I start to wonder why I never took the time to stop and explore a place so close to home. The water is calm beneath me, although the slapping sound of water runs through my ears, coming from the overflow area where the pond spills out, the water rushing over rocks and flowing freely.
Standing here at the edge of Cornell Pond, I can’t help but imagine the conversation that led to this peaceful body of water becoming a major player in our water-obsessed world. At some point, someone must’ve thought, ‘Hmm, this pond’s calm waters are just too quiet. Let’s make it work harder.’ So, they turned it into a reservoir. Just like that. As if the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional bird song weren’t enough. Now, instead of offering quiet solitude for birds and squirrels, it’s providing water for the town, all while keeping a perfectly still surface. Instead of offering peaceful respite to the wildlife, it now quietly bears the burden of providing water for the town, all the while waiting to be let free and run wild once more.
The ducks stay at the edge furthest from the road, as if sensing that danger might be lurking just beyond the boundary we’ve imposed; a loud hum of passing cars plays in my ears, begging for my attention, a constant reminder of the world that encroaches just behind me. Staying focused on my purpose of truly doing nothing is starting to wear thin as the sounds of society swirl in the background. I keep walking, chasing the sound of free water, working hard to be seen; it’s ironic how the very thing we rely on now seems to beg for our attention.
The whispers of rushing water continue pleading with my feet to guide so it can be seen. Of course, the water is seen, but is it truly noticed? Does anyone else hear the way it keeps whispering, or am I the only one listening, daring to question what I have been presented with? My journey continues into the woods that now connect to the Howland Reserve trails, a $37,000 project from 2019 that has left these trails rugged and overgrown, nature quickly reclaiming what was once tamed. As my boots and camera bag continue to get caught up on the thick bristle that carpets the trail, I can’t help but wonder if this path was ever meant to stay open, or if nature had other plans all along.
My face is soon mist-kissed as the water, finally free from captivity, rushes past me. It surges faster and faster, almost as if putting on a show now that someone’s finally paying attention ‘Oh, so now you notice? I’ve been waiting to be heard, but no one ever bothers to listen. Despite the winter remnants of what once thrived with leaves, blocking its path to freedom, it carved its own way. It reminds me that, even when obstructed, nature will always find a way to break free, to push past whatever boundaries we set. In the same way, I realize, perhaps it’s the act of listening, really listening, that frees us from the noise around us. And at that moment, I understood. The pond, the water, the world, it’s all been here, waiting for someone to finally hear it.
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