Now, of course, for those who don’t know me, and mostly nobody knows me, I am not a biologist, botanist, zoologist, or even a naturalist. I am also not Charles Darwin’s descendant or from Henry Thoreau’s bloodline any more than most of you are. And yet in more ways than one, I feel that I share with them the same sense of wonder, awe, and curiosity toward life, which made them the legends that they are. It is this near epiphany that tempts me to narrate the evolutionary tale of my humble pond.
For those who do not follow my life because there is nothing to follow, let me tell you a few months ago I trotted through wild shrubbery, thorny bushes, cow dung, and broken glass bottles to pluck wild lilies from a natural lake. Wading through murky waters, I clutched those aquatic beauties with their roots in a very optimistic attempt to replant them in my small pond at home. In the first few days, the lilies tricked me with their floating leaves and blooming buds. I got rightfully excited believing that they appreciated my full care and half knowledge. This unfounded delight made me jump the gun and introduce a few guppies in the pond a tad too soon.