The horse trough is an old heavy concrete thing. Maybe 3X1.5 ft, 1 ft deep. Filled with water. Growing murky stuff inside, small brown oak leaves clustered across about a third of the surface. And gold fish. Maybe 2.5 inches long. They’ve been there several years. Since I’ve been here off and on these 2 weeks, I’ve seen 1-3 of them at a time. Never at the surface, but in slow suspended movement deep within.

My father told me there was a white one. I thought maybe he meant an orange one with a white spot, that it was one of the ones I’d seen.

Yesterday, I tossed a couple of azalea petals, deep pink, on the surface and walked off a bit. When I returned, fish were at the surface of the trough. Three, then a fourth one-- I didn’t know!

Then, a fifth fish appeared. The white fish. It was shining, with pale orange spots. Very lovely and shy.

And with the white fish came one more orange one—six altogether. I had no idea there were that many. They seemed to play, chasing each other about, no nipping or biting. Mesmerizing in their movement.

They’d come to the surface, their mouths open to air, then dart under leaves. They seemed like happy fish.

If I moved, to see the squirrel on the garage roof behind me, or because of an itch, the fish would dart down beneath the protective cover of the leaves. They’d quickly return, all the way to the surface.

The white fish and one of the orange fish were always the last to reappear.

I guess if you have the white genes, in the goldfish world, it’s harder to be camouflaged, to be invisible. A raccoon or heron would eat you first. Therefore, the white fish who survived to reproduce were ones who are very cautious, secretive. They passed that down. They’ve learn to watch the other fish to see when it’s safe to emerge.

I don’t know why I write about them. I enjoyed watching them, the leaves, the wavering reflection of the oak limbs on the water’s surface, the bright orange and white fish creating visual music just under and at the surface of the old trough, and the two pink petals among the brown oak leaves. Unexpected beauty.