Steam rose from the hot rocks and clouded my iPhone lens.
Jon and I picked them out of the pasture. Cambridge has good rocks. His arms full, mine bundled in my skirt as we walked back to the house. Then we boiled them in the black enamel pot, preparing them for the fish tank.
It was Jon’s idea to clean the fish tank and redo it. He was looking for a different aesthetic, something simpler. And I, as usual, balked at the idea of changing it.
It had become a wild place, the vegetation thick with green moss growing between and up the plants. I lost track of how many snails we had because I wouldn’t see them for days. It was an underwater forest, a lush place for the fish and snails to live.
But there was the problem of the gravel. Even though we cleaned it with a suction pump, it still had a years worth of gunk in it.
It was the thought of building little rock sculptures that got me excited about Jon’s new idea for the tank.
As soon as the rocks came out of the pot I started playing with the, piling them up on the dish drain. Then moved them into the fish tank, arranging and rearranging them.
The snails took to the rocks immediately. Exploring the new surfaces in their home, finding the places to hide. I wondered what the fish think of the tall plants and open spaces.
The new gravel makes it easier to take pictures of the snails and fish because there’s less reflection. And in the new habitat, everyone is much more visible.
Jon’s so good at and about taking care of the fish tank.
I always go along with him a little reluctantly, afraid that if we change things in the tank the fish or snails might die. But as much as I liked the wild forest our tank was, I’m really enjoying this “new” tank even more.
It’s like tidying up, rearranging the furniture and clearing off the table for the fresh vase of flowers from the garden.
