The last time I walked this trail the sky was dark gray and heavily laden. The leaved trees were mostly bare, and branches of lakeside growth were naked twigs. It was no trick to drop our bundle into the chilled water, knowing that the edge between under and above would soon crust with ice. My curiosity was a dangerous burden now, almost ten months later. I felt compelled to look. Autumn had begun warning the foliage of its arrival with warm splotches of color. The pond still held it’s secrets and would grow a shroud in a few short weeks. The serene water told me all I needed to know. He remained where we had planted him.