The Sound of Falling Water

By Tom Poland 

From a fountain comes the glassy crash of falling water, a sound older than mankind. The water, purling, gurgling, and splashing, pulls you toward it, and not just you. From all points of the compass come flurries of our feathered friends, lured by the sound of falling water.

I watched a Carolina wren spend eight minutes in a fountain one afternoon. The little fellow then flew to the nearest tree to sun. I could tell he was full of himself, as if looking for a blue jay to fight.

Birds and serenity—every yard needs a fountain. A shimmering, cascading sheath of water, catching the sun just so gives a yard a beautiful focus. If nothing else, the sight of falling water unleashes a bit of magic. Cascading rivulets please the eye, and the sound? Well, you can easily imagine a cool, refreshing mountain stream winds through your property.

I have yet to meet a person who does not love fountains. Something about the sound of falling water washes away tension. I’ve read that a fountain’s droplets produce a cleansing effect similar to that fresh clean smell you get from a thunderstorm. A sound buffer, too. Being near a fountain can drown out that annoying leaf blower down the street. Fountains offer peace, beauty, and a centerpiece for wildlife.

Something about falling water just seems right in a way that’s hard to explain, but you feel it nonetheless. Before my mother passed, an annual rite for me was to awaken her fountains from their winter’s sleep this time of year. That meant cleaning them out, refilling them with clean water, and seeing if they would behave, that is, flow properly and consistently. Most of the time they proved difficult. The pump would be clogged, or the tubing crimped, or the fountain needed leveling. The worst-case scenario was when a fountain had to be taken apart and put together anew. A four-tier fountain and its finial can way close to 675 pounds and that’s without water in it.

Once I got it right though, all Mom had to do was keep water in it. Silver streams plummeted into tiered basins, and the sight and sound made all my effort worthwhile. I knew, too, just how much it meant to her. A beautiful fountain brought magic to her yard. No wonder every major city in the world takes immense pride in its fountains. It’s no coincidence Rome is known for its fountains. In fact, Latin gives us the origin for the word “fountain.” “Fons” or “fontis” refers to an architectural piece that pours water into a basin or jets it into the air. Many fountains do both. Beyond delivering water for drinking and bathing, the Romans saw in fountains a way to make their gardens and courtyards more beautiful. The ancient Romans built grandiose fountains, many among the world’s best.

In 2001, I visited Rome and went to Trevvi Fountain, a Baroque fountain most architectural critics consider the world’s finest. It’s also Rome’s largest fountain. Tradition holds that if you toss a coin in the pool over your back, you will definitely return to Rome someday.

It’s tempting to think the ancient Romans would think poorly of our little fountains made from concrete. They aren’t made from marble and they’re certainly not grandiose, but maybe, just maybe, the old Romans would smile at all the little fountains with their angels, cherubs, finials, and other motifs set in concrete. After all, the ancient Romans gave us “cementum,” a mixture of lime, volcanic ash, and crushed rock that led to today’s cement.

Concrete or granite or copper even, all fountains have something in common: a long and colorful history and a little thing called serenity that’s hard to put a price on. After a trying day, I love sitting by a fountain in the early part of the evening, what we call lightning bug time. The sound of falling water and the emergence of yellow fireflies reward me for making it through yet another day on Planet Earth.

Spring’s almost here; summer’s around the corner. It’s fountain season. Time to get ’em running. If you don’t have one, get one. You’ll not regret it, even when it proves to be a task come the end of winter.

 A bird’s eye view of a fountain – photo by Tom Poland

Visit Tom Poland’s website at www.tompoland.net
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Tom Poland is the author of twelve books and more than 1,000 magazine features. A Southern writer, his work has appeared in magazines throughout the South. The University of South Carolina Press released his book, Georgialina, A Southland As We Knew It, in November 2015 and his and Robert Clark’s Reflections Of South Carolina, Vol. II in 2014. The History Press of Charleston published Classic Carolina Road Trips From Columbia in 2014. He writes a weekly column for newspapers in Georgia and South Carolina about the South, its people, traditions, lifestyle, and changing culture and speaks often to groups across South Carolina and Georgia, “Georgialina.”