Ebb and Flow: Stories of Our Water Gardens

Have you seen our pond, watched the goldfish, or spent any time enjoying the water gardens here at Whispering Pines?

Whether you've had the pleasure of the experience, or not, let me tell you a little about them.

When I purchased Whispering Pines in 2005, the water gardens were already absolutely beautiful. The pond, the waterfall, the streams winding through the gardens. They were one of the many things I fell in love with about this place.

There was just one little problem. I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of them!

When my friend Eileen and I were getting Whispering Pines ready for my first guests, an older gentleman appeared at the doorstep.

“Well, hello there, young lady. My name is Mr. Dean Handy, and I’m pretty handy.”

He told me he had helped the previous owners and offered to help me, too. Before I even had a chance to ask for his phone number, he handed me a blank check. His phone number was printed right on it. That was his business card!

As it turned out, Mr. Dean had helped build the original pond. He knew how it worked, and he taught me how to clean and care for it. He also helped with the lawn and all sorts of things I was still learning about this six-acre property.

We were both fiercely independent, so we didn’t always agree. But we figured it out, laughed along the way, and became dear friends.

There are plenty more stories about Mr. Dean, including our Wednesday margaritas, but those deserve a story of their own on another day.

There were already goldfish in the pond when I bought Whispering Pines. Bud, the previous owner, had told me how he moved them into an old cow trough in the back of the barn, with a little heater to keep them warm over winter.

Well, between getting the inn ready and figuring out how to run the place, I forgot. None of those fish survived that first winter.

Mr. Dean was practical about it: “Well, honey, it’s okay. You don’t need to save ’em. Just buy new ones next year.”

But those frozen goldfish became a funny family story that very first winter. My sister-in-law and nephews came to help plan my open house. It was a sunny, semi-warm December day, so we sent the boys outside to play.

They came bursting back inside, excited to tell us what they’d found. If only you could have seen my seven-year-old nephew standing there, showing us exactly what a frozen goldfish looked like! The stance, the expression—he had the whole thing down.

When he went back to school, the experience apparently stayed with him. On a first-grade math worksheet he wrote: “My ant has frosen goldfish in her pond.”

His mother saved the worksheet and gave it to me. I still have it! And that little boy is an engineer now. Does he remember the 'frosen' goldfish?

For many years, I got my goldfish from Paap’s Bait Shop here in Nebraska City. I have a wonderful photograph of him when he was about 90 years old. Paap has since passed away, and his bait shop is no longer here, but he’s another one of the people who became part of the water gardens’ story. You had to bring, or buy, a cooler to transport the fish; couldn't just put them in a bag. He taught me I had to temper their water with the pond water and couldn't just toss them in.

And then one year, Deb’s grandson Rutledge, about eight years old, was so excited to help release the goldfish into the pond. It’s funny how these captured moments are all a part of bringing the pond experience into its seasonal glory.

Every fall I’d think, this is the year I’ll bring the goldfish inside. And then life would get busy, as it tends to do around here.

But last winter, we finally did it. We brought fish into an aquarium in the barn. Eight made it through winter, and all eight went back into the pond in spring.

Apparently they liked being home, because by fall 2026 we had about 40 goldfish swimming around out there. Now we’re figuring out winter accommodations for a whole new generation!

Then there was Rupert, our indoor B&B goldfish, who even inspired a Rupert Happy Hour special. Not many goldfish can say that! Sadly, we lost Rupert in August 2026 after some whole-house guests overfed him. Poor Rupert.

Who knew I would collect so many goldfish stories?

Save the Goldfish!

Crazy new idea...Adopt a Goldfish.
We're planning a goldfish adoption day, tentatively Saturday, November 14, 2026! Interested in giving a few of our goldfish a warm home for winter? Click below for details as they're announced.

Adoption details coming soon!

Now, keeping these water gardens going isn’t always peaceful. Every spring there are leaves and debris to clean out, rocks and streams to tend, and a waterfall to get running. Many people have lent a hand over the years.

And then there are the leaks. Trying to figure out where the water is escaping can be like looking for a needle in a haystack!

I’ve threatened more than once to just fill in the damn pond and move on.

But then comes my favorite part of spring. Everything is clean, I turn the water on, and I stand there watching it fill up and begin to flow. Over the rocks, through the streams, into the ponds. And that sound—the trickling and splashing of moving water. I love it.

It reminds me why I keep doing all that work.

When I was thinking about leaving my corporate career and trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next, I read The Path by Laurie Beth Jones. One exercise asked which element—earth, water, wind, or fire—I was most like.

I chose water.

I liked the way water finds its way. It can get between cracks, go over things, under things, around things, and somehow just make it work. Little did I know that my next chapter would bring me to Whispering Pines and its water gardens!

I still think about that exercise, especially when I’m cleaning the waterfall. It’s the way I look at life and my days here. You work with whatever is going on. Ebb and flow.

A couple of years ago, I finally put a chair in a spot I’d loved for a long time. Most people see the gardens from the top near the waterfall or from the bridge overlooking the pond. My chair is right in the middle.

From there I can hear the water trickling down, watch it reach the middle pond and continue toward the other stream, and look up at the big oak tree overhead. It’s one of my favorite places to sit and ponder.

And it’s not just what the water gardens bring to me. It’s what they bring to the people who visit Whispering Pines: the beauty, the sound, the calm, and the chance to stop and enjoy it. A little like sitting on the porch swing listening to the crows.

So as many times as I’ve wanted to fill in that damn pond, I can’t. There are too many memories there, and it brings too much to this place and the people who spend time here.

Every spring, when I turn the water back on and watch it flow, I remember that all over again.

Over the years, we've had plenty of visitors to the water gardens. Some have four legs, some have wings, and some just stop by for a morning bath!