She used to be called
"Groton Pond " dhats when she and I first formed this wonderful
bond
When I was just a small child we became great friends
things were different way back then
You could rent a boat for a dollar
from good ole Mr Boomhower
You could follow the path around the edge of the pond,
pick blueberries and fish till early dawn
At night you could hear the train roar
the
lantern hanging from the ceiling would shake
and so would the
floor
Then times changed and the train stopped coming
sad but true, its no longer running
The old tracks and the railroad ties have disappeared
things began to change and that's what some feared
Folks were able to drive down the railroad bed
"its
take you a little closer to the pond", they said
Mother
would load us up with boxes of food and a suitcase or two
the
rocky decent was a difficult task and not much fun
we were always
glad when this chore was done
If our load was too heavy Dad
would drive to Boomies
and rent us a boat
if we needed to take lumber, we'd pull it on a float
Boomie's gone now and so are the sawdust banks
if you mentioned Gales Landing, most folks would draw a blank
For those of you that think Boomie's a mystery
I
can tell you right now he was part of Groton
and its logging history
At the nature center his picture you can now see
if he
could know this, he would laugh and slap his knee
Then
her name was changed to Lake Groton, but we still call her "the Pond"
Most of the rail-bed is closed to the motorized wheel
designated a recreational multi-purpose
use road for tourist appeal
Snowmobiling, hiking and
biking are some of its major uses
gone are the days of the rail
and the caboose
Fancy places no longer called camps,
high powered speed boats too big for the pond, boat launches now called ramps
Satellite dishes and microwaves are not everyone's style
oh if I could only go back in time to see the old saw mill and pine log piles
I love to hear the hoot of an owl or the call of the loon while lying in bed
and see the glimmer of lamplight on the ceiling while I read
Ah... the smell of coffee perking on the old wood stove,
and providing your own meal of fresh caught trout
yes, cooking and eating it, thats what is was all about
Baking a pie full of berries that you just picked or
getting your hair wet while bending over the dock,
to
catch a pollywog or a frog that just hopped
Now
the trout are all gone, the pond's too warm the enviromentalist
say, "she is just filling with silt"
Development and civilization has made her pay a big price
Let's
hope her future is not a roll of the dice
I hope
she doesn't get sick, she has so many foes
aquatic weeds,
acid rain, and poisons we don't know
This little pond
is like a homing device to me
no matter where I go, she
won't set me free
You see I just love her, she's so
much a part of me
To this day no matter where I am, the
smell of birch burning
sets my heart yearning ,for
her shores of soft white sand and the scent of her musty forest land
My heart will always be there, like many before me I know
when I take my final breath, I know where my spirit will go
So if you are at the pond please listen very close
when you hear the cry of a loon in the middle of the night
think of me when the loon takes flight
Follow
the path of moonlight across the water to the opposite shore
thats
where you will find my spirit forever more
I needed to
tell you about all of the good times we had, back when I was a kid and went to camp with Mom and Dad
Some day in a few hundred years, she may well be all gone
and end up being just another story told, about some bog that was once called "good ole Groton
Pond".:
Written
by Darlene Thygesen Sprague
dedicated to
My Mom and Dad
Ejnar
and Lovella Thygesen
"I will always be thankful for the day they carried me in their arms to this beautiful,
magical place".
Published in 2006 (GMTP)
