Pond therapy

I'm sure I've posted about this before, but, it could be a thing, I'm sure - pond therapy. Harmless, cheap, meditative, nature-encouraging . . .

I put our first pond in a couple of years ago on a dismal February day - or rather the person with a mini digger who was there doing our reed bed system put it in. It being a large plastic cattle feeding basin donated by our lovely organic veg growing friend up the road. The first year wasn't bad but this year it's really become its own tiny universe with little help from us - just a bit of water butt topping up from time to time, and purchasing of a 'mother' water lettuce which has spread into a citadelle of smaller plants. The lily pads have spread and the frog population has increased dramatically, their voices chorusing through many a warm night. There's no filtration system but the plants seem to be providing enough oxygen and the earlier algae appears to have cleared.

This year's pond - an old enamel bath - was installed by our lovely Workaway, Christopher on an equally cold and drear February day. It sat for a few months gradually filling with rainwater and later, mosquito larvae . . . the purchase of a few baby goldfish sorted that and after the one outlay of some new water plants the pond has sorted itself into a lovely, tranquil little place with birds and insects coming to drink. I've planted up the surrounding rubbly earth with stuff from the rest of the garden and a discarded corner of our land has now become a place I enjoy - feeding the fish, watching dragon flies and marvelling generally at what happens when you provide a few raw materials and then leave mostly alone.

The smallest garden or terrace has space for a pond, even a washing up bowl pond. There's just something about creating a tiny aquatic world and watching what arrives and the plants that develop. I'm hoping for newts next...

Pondlife

 After Blur's 1994 track, Parklife. 

Ponds could be the new therapy; certainly works for me... Overcome by the enormity of the world's problems? Build a pond, even a titchy one. There's something reassuring and meaningful about taking a dull bit of lawn, digging a hole and inserting an overlooked sink/water trough/washing up bowl, introducing water, a few plants, stones etc and watching a whole new, small scale, and without vast problems, world unfold before you. 

Our local organic veg producing friend gave us a large round plastic tub which had been destined to be part of a reed bed idea, now rather put to one side. When our own reed bed was installed I asked the man wielding the small yellow digger if he could make an extra hole, which he did. I filled in the drainage hole with silicone, let it dry and we filled the pond from the river via many hosepipes joined together.

For about three days it looked like a disappointing muddy mistake then the water started to clear due to the oxygenating plants Mark had bought, including an extraordinary floating nomadic 'water lettuce' plant that trails its roots and requires no permanent fixture. The first visitors to our watering hole were about 4,000 mosquito larvae - eek! . . . I scooped a few hundred out then gave up - something would surely snack on these? 

On our favourite forest/lake walk we stole three baby frogs, and later from a river, a few minnows. They seem to have happily taken up residence and the mosquito population has vastly reduced. The latest arrivals are a huge water beetle and many small ones, various snails, a family of pond skaters and several dragon fly larvae. I can happily spend several minutes just staring into the now-clear depths of the tub, delighted at the glimpse of a fish or a new addition to this small universe. Watching from our back window in the house gives also glimpses of the bird and animal life that have started to view the pond as a good garden addition. 

We have now installed an old kitchen sink and will be adding a bath I got from the local recycling emporium. A biodiversity corridor, I heard it called on one wild gardening channel. And . . . if one day I get a film deal, win the loto, whatever, we'll add a natural swimming pool . . . pond is fine for now.

Soundscape

Our personal one here in The Hothouse at the moment is the emerging summer sounds of nightingales, who also sing throughout the daylight hours, the next door's cockerel - clearly not on the correct timer - who calls throughout the late morning, their goat, various parrots, the donkey-birds (see post last summer, swallows and various chorusing frogs.
This small green one, hidden in the pampas grass was making an electronic beeping noise. It emerged onto the terrace - much to the cat's interest, and I picked it up to have a closer look.
Isn't nature a totally incredible thing? That colour, the eyes, the toes. It just sat there calmly while we stared at it, amazed that such a tropical-looking creature had appeared in our European garden.