Pulling Cattails

Pond? What pond? Yes, there is a pond under all the cattails and reeds and waterlilies.

And it's about time someone got in there and pulled up some of those cattails. I mean, really, we ought to be able to see the water!

Uhh - who exactly is going to wade into that algae-filled water? I guess I am. Frogs scatter as I plop into the scum. The mucky bottom grabs my sandals so that I step with a glop and a sploosh.

It proves harder than you would think to pull up cattails. I have to rock them back and forth until I feel the root give and then ease them up. Then I throw them like spears up on the bank, until I am in the middle of the pond and just stack them beside me to carry out.

I can't think about what is in this water, wrapping itself around my ankles and crawling up my bare legs. It's thick. The pond has outdone itself in fecundity. I notice a turtle poking its head up by the bank. It gives me a resentful look before it slides back down under the pondweed.

Ah, here comes the man to help. Not to get into the water, but to pick up the armfuls of cattail stems and carry them off to the compost pile.

"Maybe that should be your last one" he says, as I grab a giant cattail in the middle of the pond. The water laps around my thighs as I pull, jiggle, and pull again. I'm thinking about the great, big, enormous turnip that won't come up. I give a mighty yank...

the cattail comes UP

I go DOWN

OH YUCK!

The man is doubled over, hooting with laughter. I drag my slimy, mucky self up out of the surprisingly cold water.

"Yes," I say, " I think that was the last one."

I can't get into a hot shower fast enough.