Just returning from a walk in the Park where we enjoyed the Conservatory Gardens.
Especially, the empty Koi pond now partially filled with melting snow revealing
the waterworks for the use of the fountain in warmer weather. A hidden surprise
we never saw before. In the pond, digging with sticks and exploring the base which resembled a swimming pool in winter. Peeling paint shedding its own grey coating needs to be touched up before the fish return in Springtime. The green patina of the life-sized sculpture
of a boy and his girl playing the flute with bronze sparrows settling on their
heads remind us of the warmer months ahead, when live sparrows will land beside them
and match their poses before flying off to a nearby tree.
She asks, “where do the fish go in
the winter?” Spying a drainage portal on
the side of the pond she conjectures they somehow transport to their home in
the Reservoir through the modest sized hole. Since it was a pretty good idea, I
didn’t bother to correct her or present the obviously logical reasons why it
would never work for the fish.
“That’s a good idea.” I indulged and continued to watch her climb snow mountains in the empty pond. The Winter sunlight changed the mood every minute or so. So nice being outside and alone in the middle of the dead flowers, bushes and dormant trees. Nesting inside the garden; nested inside the city. Once in a while someone walked past and a florescent green down jacket momentarily changed the landscape. Back to the straw-toned bushes carefully wrapped in twine, supporting them through the heavy winter along with the metal, ankle–height doily fence designed for decoration and protecting the impending Volunteers that will perk up soon. Maybe crocuses and definitely (at least) 15 varieties of daffodil, also part of the narcissus family, which I learned about over the many years of garden visits. Not wanting to lose the relaxation of the garden visits by learning the Latin names of the flora, the name narcissus stuck.
Entering the apartment and the cat
is screaming for food. Immediately, we search for a can opener because none of
the pull-off top cat food cans are around so we have to use a can of Bumble Bee Solid White Albacore Tuna in Water. Cat jumps on the counter and
everything near the edge falls. Empty stained wine glasses shatter on the floor
and make a really dangerous mess that we tip toe away from so I will sweep and
wipe the tiny shards so no one gets hurt, including the cat. It’s annoying because
we had the really nice walk in the park and now drops of red wine and little
glass pieces are everywhere, even stuck to the wall.
After the mess is gone we settle
onto the bed and start homework and reading. It is nice and calm and when she begins the
assignment about poems she opens a book with a photo of a big Victorian
house on the cover. It is a black and white photo so it’s hard to tell what the
actual color of the house is, but it might be white and even before opening the
book it suggests what the content or mood of poetry might be about. I don’t
like that very much, because when younger kids start exploring poetry I believe
it should be done without visual suggestion.
The reader should conjure those images up purely in their own imagination.
The reader should conjure those images up purely in their own imagination.
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