I was hoping for a sunset today, but like so many events in life, the end did not live up to the beginning. The Sun rose to clear skies in the east, the day was bright and sunny (though cold) until early afternoon, but by the time I had finished my work and headed outside, clouds had moved in from the west and the sun had gotten hazy. There were still some breaks in the cloud cover in the west, though, and being the generally optimistic sort that I am, I was hoping for some local color, but alas, it was not to be.
I persevered anyway, walking through woods, along the waterways, across the bridges and along the various paths of the park looking, watching, gazing and collecting images to define the day. Winter is a hard time, for photos, and we have had a lot of dreary days here in the City of the French King, complete with various states of water falling from the skies, and yet the geese honked cheerfully as they flew back and forth above the park, I spied a Merganser in the waters between the boathouse and the Muny, found an appealing tree, a bearded German dude, cool patterns in the ice, and managed to fake a Thomas Kinkade painting of the Boathouse by Post Dispatch lake.
The fountains in the Grand Basin still flow in the winter time, lit from beneath and framing the Cass Gilbert designed Art Museum that stands on the hill above. The birds still flit around, though far fewer fowl fly above the waters than in summer. The muskrats don’t hibernate in winter (or any other time of year), so unless the owls, mink, foxes, snapping turtles, coyotes and hawks of Forest Park have eaten every last one (a rather unlikely scenario) they are also hanging around looking for food.
And then there’s me.