looks like my Henry pulled up the stakes and left.
Where is HDT?
It was a beautiful day in these parts so my publicist and I traipsed the 1.7-mile trail around Walden Pond. We weren’t out for exercise or the beautiful weather so much as we were hoping to catch a sighting of Henry David Thoreau, the only man who ever made my heart throb.
I’m sure some of you have made it to Walden Pond. It’s a kettle pond made famous by my Henry, who spent two years, two months and two days living in a tiny cabin 10-feet by 15 feet. His living there was an experiment to see how little one needed to live a full life. Apparently, we don’t need much.
My Henry’s original cabin no longer stands, but a life-size replica is outside the Concord Museum. Elementary-school kids like going inside the replica. It’s about the size of a playhouse or shed. They don’t understand fully that a man once lived in an identical structure. They just think it’s fun to play around inside it.
In fact, when my publicist was a girl, she would bike to Walden Pond with her friends, then swim across and back. She never once thought about Walden Pond as a destination for people from all corners of the globe. She and her friends would marvel at the foreigners with their fancy 35-millimeter cameras and zoom lenses casing the place. What were they looking at?
Walden Pond was also the place my publicist first heard “Free Me,” by Roger Daltrey. That was the day she decided her life goal was to be Mrs. Roger Daltrey. (She has not accomplished that, yet.)
Today, she had memories of bringing her toddler son there and teaching him how to swim. It seemed like moments ago, but he’s now 20, and a relatively good swimmer. And despite the slight chill in the air, we saw ‘tweens splashing around in the water. Further up, three men had cast seven lines. A trout bit at one, as we walked by. Around the bend a man waded in the beach with a preschool girl, while a woman sat on a beach chair and read.
It’s still early in the season around here, so Walden Pond was not at full capacity. But you can come by here on miserable day, weather wise as all days are beautiful, and see people enjoying its splendor.
We stopped by the site of my Henry’s cabin, and he was not there. Just some stone posts outlining the footprint. Nearby was a pile of rocks, many inscribed with messages to my Henry from his loving public. If you stop by, be sure to bring a rock to add to the pile.
My Henry learned a lot from his solitude at Walden Pond. You can read all about it in “Walden” one of the finest publications ever, besides mine, of course. Following are some photos my publicist snapped today from her smart phone. Keep in mind, it is impossible to capture the full ambiance of Walden Pond with a smart phone. Enjoy.