I remember my first morning in early March at Central Park. I got off the train to hordes of people all with a look of panic on their faces rushing this way and that trying to make it through to wherever it is that each one of them is going. It’s the frantic hustle of midtown in full swing. The park was full of people too, but everyone there was silent, each of them in their own world, making the sounds of Manhattan, only blocks away, a distant rumble; a storm far off that will not arrive.
Early spring renders the birds just as loud and alive as the city. Actually, they may even be louder and more frantic, making the people all around slow and merely part of the landscape like the trees jutting out from the rocks; like the melting snow that seems so permanent even as it quickly makes its leave. It’s a beautiful contradiction and another way in which you can find yourself lost in what most call “man made nature.” Maybe it should instead be referred to as “nature made nature” or “nature intentionally made nature” compared to other places which seemingly weren’t so “intentional” but more happenstance, at least from the eyes of the human. I wonder what squirrels say about this place, this large crazy habitat of the humans, like a giant habitat of pikas in some high altitude region.
I can’t help but marvel. Way to go Olmsted, you built a painting we can finally get inside, interact with, and get lost in!
Today it is raining and I have finally had time to share some of what I have captured. The snow is now gone, but the trees are again white, this time with blossoms.