Suddenly, we have ponds. (Or, a pond and a half; the other half belongs to a neighbor.) The caretaker says they come and go with Spring rains. He calls them vernal pools, a term I'd never heard but one which sent my husband (an environmentalist funder) into paroxysms of pleasure. Apparently, vernal pools host endangered fauna and flora. Really? All I can see in them (apart from lovely reflections) is sodden grass and a few ducks. To me, they are giant puddles. That look nice from afar.
Holleywood, reflected.
The path dividing the ponds (or puddles) was formerly used as an entrance drive.
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