2007-04-01
hornwart
Before I step into the Neighborhood Fish Farm, I hear water gurgling behind the wooden fence. Inside is an oasis from the broiling sun. Just down the road from "horse country," smack in the middle of Mexican tile shops, Paso Fino lessons, and greenhouses steaming with orchids, you'll find a fish farm that sells all kinds of fancy goldfish and koi. 
Beyond the shady huts are a smattering of ponds. The knife-bright koi dive in the bubbling waterfalls. If you stretch out your hand, they will nibble your fingers.
These pale fish swoop and dart like veils.
Across the deck, several acres of sun-baked grass stretch along a rock wall (which is decorated with graffiti: my friend, Thayer would dig it). The water in the long rows of boxy pools is celery green, but that's only from the leafy plants (like this funny stalk of Hornwart: which sounds like something Harry Potter would use in a magical spell).
The snails coast along the algae-furred walls at one mile per hour (pretty fast for a snail).
Orandas have such huge heads, they must be aquatic geniuses (I never believed that myth about the memories of goldfish. After all, my bettas always rocket to the top of their bowls when they see me coming. They know it's time to eat).
I bought a pl*co for my pond (On the Internet, you're supposed to remove the "e" in their names for good luck). When I got home, he sunk to the bottom like a stone. Later I'll feed him a slice of cucumber.
Wish I could've stolen this smiling rock monster. He would make a good guardian for the pond (which has been plagued by raccoons. Got to keep it covered every night or they'll go for a swim).
Neighborhood Fish Farm
12150 SW 45 Street
Miami, FL 33175
f-i-n at 6:41 p.m.