Last Sunday morning I returned to Dean & Deluca after a fairly lengthy hiatus. No particular reason for the hiatus, other than past Sundays being too hot or too rainy. This Sunday was a heavily overcast day that still threatens to rain, but I braved it anyway.
I was a little later than I usually am, and all the tables were taken by regulars and regular running groups, so I took my coffee and bagel down to the Georgetown waterfront, a second but no less excellent option. And after breakfast and reading, I continued ambling down to the new stone steps where a family fed a large group of ducks. They tore off pieces of their Dean & Deluca muffins (even the ducks are spoiled!) and I sat and enjoyed my zen. Their little boy had a field day chasing the ducks who got too close, and then at the same time wanting to bring them closer with more crumbs: “It’s my turn!”
I also thought of a place I have not thought about in years and years. Back when I was younger, my family and I would take the crusts of near-empty bread loaves to a pond somewhere near our hours to feed the ducks. I can’t remember the last time I was there, and even wonder if I would know how to find my way there directly, but oh I loved going to feed the ducks. I don’t even know if this park had a name, I’m sure it did. But to me it was – and will always be – the duck pond.
They’re kind of cute, aren’t they? With their quacking, little paddling orange feet, bright just below the surface, and shaking their tiny pointed little tails.
