from a winter past...

carrying forward connotations of a winter past 

since the verdancy is lost to the whiteout of rogue snowfalls,

we purify, whitewash, spread the lye in outward calibrations 

towards the ficklefixated exponential reveal...

a most presentient congress of pre-raphaelite hues

gather in sodden joy on sidewalks and in garden dirt

why not a kale tree, 
why not sapient moss

winter solstice

seasonal solace

annual stimulus

anno mmxvii 

you are most welcome

marking my clark park:: near the end of the year

 "...that is an indigence of the light,

a stellar pallor that hangs on the threads."*

and so it snows...for a few hours on a december day...near the end of another year...

may the new one be full of Lebensweisheitspielerei!

[*from the poem "Lebensweisheitspielerei" by Wallace Stevens, 1954]

marking my clark park:: part VII

 under the almost summer sun, the portuguese congregation winds slowly past Clark Park in their annual father's day procession...

girl angels float by with their stiff over-sized wings,

followed by the flower-emblazoned litter bearing Lady Fatima...

 and the faithful band plays on, aiming for the lateral shade of the weeping willow down the hill before turning towards the home church on East 13th...

marking my clark park:: part VI

 near the end of day, I walked across the street towards the falling light as it shimmers late through the tall trees...

 there is a lovely old french poem about the dreaming trees at dusk after the rain...

"le long des murs d'un parc ou songent de beaux arbres...

on les suit longtemps.

plus tard, un peu de soleil dore

une feuille, et deux, et puis tout!"

and so it goes, in the pale hour along the parkside walls where old trees dream...

[selected lines from "Au fil de l'heure pale" by Leon-Paul FARGUE, 1878-1947]

marking my clark park:: part V

We could hear the eaglet's shrill cries from our house and we had spotted his parents soaring high above the park - our modest little park!  This is the first time Clark Park has hosted a bald eagle family and a few days ago our older son found the tree that they had set up home in...

The nest is quite hidden amongst the branches but daddy eagle keeps watch nearby, and every once in a while, an obnoxious crow would dare to taunt him and he would have to chase it away...

Around the base of the tree [mysteriously labelled WPC], there was scattered a small offering of flowers for the birth of a majestic but now sadly urbanized bird of prey...

marking my clark park:: part IV

 the unstinting promise of summer...

from a relinquished spring...

marking my clark park:: part III

As the leaves slowly drift away again from the drowsy trees of Clark Park, small windows open up between the branches toward the views of the city skyline and the north shore mountains...

I clamber around the high points of the park searching for such glimpses ornately framed by the golden and russet foliage, baring branches and darkened trunks...

and through the lacerating arboreal veil, the gleaming glass towers and the snow draped mountain peaks appear only as enticing mirages in the far, far distance...

marking my clark park:: part II

Summerfall...
as in fallen branches from the late summer pruning of the aging trees,
as in summer turning much too soon to fall...

wreathed festively around a trunk...

lying scattered in dapple sunlight...

and strewn about in voluptuous garlands...

the holly and the pine were prematurely trimmed...

and these little acorns have lost their raison d'être...

dead branches were rightly removed...

but fresh young ones fell disconsolate...

ever mournful in the cooling tree shadows...

 dark lace beneath my dreaming trees...

marking my clark park:: part I

Clark Park...

where the buffaloes had once roamed...

where the salmon swam up a small creek...

where orchards fruited in the summer...

where Jean still lives in the house she was born in almost 80 years ago...

and remembers the crazy Russian family that ruffled the neighbourhood...

where we breathe in the green air from the old trees day in and day out...

and walk its shaded and meandering pathways...

and gather windfall branches for winter solstice warmth 

for many, many years now...

all because of a generous man named Clark who donated the land in 1889...