With the exception of one sunny day, this week has been cold, rainy, and pretty miserable - like most of the northeastern Atlantic coast. So I've been happy to find a few cheerful scenes here and there - this windowbox outside the local bakery, and the gardens no one seems to notice at Parc Lafontaine, full right now with blue forget-me-nots, orange and yellow tulips, white anemones, and pulmonaria in every color.
Never having lived in a city before, I'm entirely new to the idea of urban parks and how one relates to them. Because we live close by, it's easy to walk over to the park anytime, and while there are always people there, often there aren't many and I can have a sense of solitude and growing connectedness with this new place in my life. Yesterday I sat on a big rock near the lake and watched a pair of mallards swim back and forth, checking to see if I'd brought them a snack (I hadn't, but will next time). I had a conversation with one of the many very tame grey squirrels, talking him right up to my feet, and explored the really lovely and pretty extensive shade garden that's planted on the back side of the Theatre de Verdure, the open-air performing venue on the western side of the lake. All the grounds around the theater are landscaped, and even the edges of the lake have been planted with iris, water hyacinth and other large-leaved semi-aquatics I don't know, but it's all very low-key and seems to go rather unnoticed by the population. For myself, it matters a good deal.
If this weather keeps up, though, I'm heading for the library!
The Midwest had a spate of dry, clear weather this week, and yesterday I -- seldom so ambitious in hay-fever season -- undertook to walk around the lake at the park near my house. but as a last thought, I filled a coffeecup to take with me and grabbed the local weekly from the lawn as I passed it. So naturally I had to stop and attend to both once I got to the overgrown, under-maintained shore. I sat and read the paper and listened to the birds (ignoring the traffic and contractors, both fixtures of my neighborhood) and watched a turtle sunning itself on a log in the reedy lake. Now and then a disturbance would cause it to dive into the water; it may have notice me sitting down on the moss 50 feet away, despite the underbrush. It was a sunny, peaceful spot, though I found myself envying you your Vermont backyard. Then the joggers started pounding by, puffing or chattering according to whim; the inevitable Guy With Two Dogs strolled by and had me investigated; and I realized I was in a hermetic mood and wanted not human contact but peace and quiet. That (making allowances for the lawn service down the street), was easier found in my own back yard, so I beat a retreat. I don't know what the turtle thought of me, but I decided IT had the right idea. It must be quiet underwater, even if it's chilly.
Posted by: pzicari | May 27, 2005 at 06:22 PM
Love the window box. I was planting some today with that same need for sunshine, if only offered by the flowers. I wish I could design a collection like your local bakery.
Posted by: lene | May 30, 2005 at 08:24 PM