The noisy things in our lives get our attention, and sometimes that’s good. After all, the squeaky wheel needs the grease! But when we find ourselves overwhelmed by life’s demands, it is in the quiet things where we can find solace. Forest Park, in spite of its location in the center of human activity, offers many quiet rooms where peace and joy can be found. Today I wondered through two of those rooms and carefully examined the furniture. Here is what I thought about.
Don’t look at me, I didn’t do it. That darn swamp was low water when I got there! Which is odd, considering how much rain we have been having. I stood on the edge of it in my muck boots and watched the dragonflies hover low over the duckweed, flitting back-and-forth. A tiny frog skipped across the water to get away from me as I was lurking in the tall reeds and cattails along the edge of the murky waters, my eyes itching from nature’s fecundity. A red winged blackbird bird swooped
Today I was the lone free ranger, riding my faithful steed up hills and down, through puddles (we had another bodacious storm last night) and all around the park, averaging 12.4 mph for an hour and fifteen minute ride. My maximum speed was 34 mph, and I met some new people along the way. According to my Strava app, I set a couple of personal records but only burned 499 calories. Sigh. Well, it’s a start.
Today, a new day in the city of the French King and we, a small sampling of the avifauna obsessed citizens of this region, rendezvoused at 08:15 in front of the Forest Park Visitor Center just in time to be handed binoculars and process on the First Saturday of the Month Bird Walk.
Tonight we were thinking the unthinkable (I don’t know how such a thing could possibly happen, but it certainly seemed to do just that. I took the spouse with me to aid in my adventures and whom should we see, in the crowded confines of the park, but Mark, the friendly neighborhood owlologist embarking on his nightly search for Forest Park’s own super predator, Charles the great horned owl.
Still working on those dance photos, all 2000 of them! So once more it was late when I transported myself to the park. Really late. Almost the next day. Sometimes I feel I am over there so much that I meet myself leaving as I am arriving.
I don’t think we have had three straight days this spring without some rain. The Father of Waters has put on a lot of weight, and is starting to throw that weight around a bit more than we humans care for, too. Today, it rained cats and dogs. I saw them fall, howling and hissing on the roof of my studio, and scratching at my window. I was working on sorting dance print orders, helping shooters in my studio and generally taking care of business and working overtime, so that when I reached
Standing next to the Dwight Davis tennis Center the scent of fresh cut grass is heavy in the air. It’s a good smell, and a light breeze is cooling me, the birds are absolutely ecstatic about the end of the day and a few people are on the tennis courts bopping balls back-and-forth in a not very definitive fashion.
I hope you didn’t miss the African Arts Festival. There was a lot of great food, African Art, various artifacts and lots of books! I bought a book about dads for my grandsons (who have a fabulous dad) and the author signed it for me. Oh the people I met! All of them interesting and unique. It makes me want to sing their names as a song! We’ll lay down a beat with steel brush on snare and disc,
I parked my car on Government Drive, before I get to the Wells traffic circle, get out, open up my camera bag, and a mosquito settles on my nose. I love St. Louis in the summertime!
My plant identifier (Siri, whom I use to email myself notes as I walk, transcribes this word as “addenda fire”) tells me this is Korean Mint (“Karin meant” in Siri Speak) so naturally I break off a leaf and pinch it to smell the oils. It has a strong, pungent odor that is not unpleasant, but not particularly minty.