Where There is Duck Laughter



I'd tried on several Sit Spots in various places over the previous months, from city river walks to the middle of the wilderness. It's difficult to get to know one slice of earth if I was constantly in a new location. I decided to commit to an easy-to-access Sit Spot within minutes of my front door. I walked the land, feeling out that in some places I liked the panoramic view and proximity to the marsh and reservoir, but I didn't like the exposure - both from the sun and also the feeling of visible exposure. I'd gone on a wander trying to find my Sit Spot, posing a question to the land of where this Sacred Solo Space would be. I walked along a small trench at the edge of the duck pond, remembering the day we planted plum trees in this ditch we dug for irrigation. Then the little pond caught my eye, as I walked around its perimeter and watched the ducks being ducks, making boisterous ripples on its surface.

Hanging on a tall, gangly shrub next to the duck pond was what looked like a baseball. It was a wasps' nest, perfectly formed. I inspected it to see a large tear on the east side; there was no insect activity. I looped around the pond's edge, seeing a large clearing where the tall grasses were matted down. Perhaps a good spot, but a tall tree was blocking the view of the land and dried-out reservoir. I knifed my legs through prickly lettuce, now yellow and dried, crashing through tall stalks, and placed my chair next to the tree, under the shade of a large branch. Yes. Here it is. Views of the cottonwoods, small shrubs and tall trees, reservoir, osprey perch, hornet nest, and a small hill behind me holding in the small pond and some happy ducks. I want to be where there is duck laughter.

Fiercely Compassionate. Compassionately Fierce.

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