Wherever there are old dairy farms, there are cow ponds. This one, at the bottom of a gentle sloping field, is very near the house where I grew up. We used it for skating in winter, but the most fun was going fishing with Roger, my youngest uncle, in the summer. A clump of tree roots formed our “island”, and we wanted horned pout. It was a wonderful way to spend the day, only going home when we heard my mom ring the cowbell that meant food on the table. Enjoy.