Thoughts on Schmeeckle Park

When I first went there it was summer.
Cedar chips covered the path
(snow in the winter)
that traced around the park.
I had a country lane in town.
Around the lake (Joanis) I would walk,
  around the lake of ducks,
  of geese,
  and once a lost seagull dived for my bread.
Then the fowl disappeared to warmer climes
when winter set in.

There was a grove of trees,  the ash on the trees
trunks made your fingers white.
It felt  Russian there, in that grove of trees,
I don't know why but it did.
A canopy of leaves, an umbrella of foliage,
arches over my head, it is hard to even
see the sky.
I would smile as I walked through.

Fall brought the colors
and the leaves became coins of gold that
  shimmered, spangled, shimmied, glistened,
  and rustled on the thin branches,
whispering pocket change jingled
on the trees.
Can you hear them?

Oh the animals, the wildlife, all sorts of kinds,
  the ducks, demure, shy, more wild,
 some brave and bold-chested, not so wild.
Some were painted in vivid colors and others
   merely brown, all waddling on funny orange feet
  that made me laugh.

The ducks loved  the bread,
  they bit at it,
  dove for it,
  wash after they eat, neat and clean after
dipping their heads.
The geese were
  more aloof,
  standoffish,
  not interested in bread.
They covered the island in the
middle of the lake,
  honking loudly, after
  spraying and splashing
  down on to the lake,
 gracefully  flying in
from their casual configurations.

There were runners, walkers, explorers, everyone
 came there for some reason, who knows for sure.
It was a good place to be for anyone.

Sunsets,
  red and
  gold and
  orange or
  gray. 
See me smile.
I am sitting on a bench by the lake asking,
  "Why would I ever leave?"

Winter came.
  It fell hard and heavy and
  overweight, fat, white flakes
  covered the whole forest fast,
packing it with fresh, brand new snow.
I walked and walked in it, I was the very first
person there that night.
The animals were there.
The deer stared out at me, barely visible
 but there, beyond the trees.
There's two, three, no there's four!
I smiled.
I think they smiled back because
I loved them so!

One afternoon a storm blew through
  and as I walked through the park
  I saw the trees that fell
  in the woods,
  a mar on the forest floor
but nature's own artwork,
uprooted, extracted, overturned,
after years of settled uprightness.
It was sad to see the tree on its side
but I explored it,
 the layers of soil turned up,
 the roots,
the effort of growth through the years
with a stormy ending.

Lake Joanis, oh it is
  clear, shining,  flowing,  the surface dances
  with diamonds shimmering on top,
  cool, sandy-bottomed and
  smooth for canoes, kayaks, and the
  Labrador after a stick, splashing
  down through the water in glee.
This clear sandy-bottomed lake
  froze over solid
  in the winter.
We walked all the way across it.
I screamed a lot but the kids were
brave and reassuring.
I stepped in to a snow bank up to my
  chest and laughed til I cried.

The natives were there later,
ice fishing
and building igloos.
The Wisconsin spirits overtook them
and they built shelter in a winter storm
so they would have a place
to drink their beer.
"Oooooooh come in and have a beer,"
  they laughed from their igloo
but we moved on across the glassy lake
and the snow continued to fall.

The whole park changed in winter,
The second big snow led me out in to
  the most magnificent snow palace!
I will never forget how the snow stacked
three inches high on every single branch,
the whole park glowed,
  with the snow,
  and the full moon,
  and my excitement.
But it could also be
  bare, frozen, harsh
  devoid of all green,
  or yellow,
  or red,
Just white,
black,
gray,
and
stark.
Either way was beautiful to me.

The park is beautiful simplicity!
Stages of beauty,
Seasons on fantastic display.
  Summer's bright colored blossoms, wildflowers everywhere,
 the glistening lake, warm breezes and sunshine.
 Or fall's leaves on the trees,
  the brightest yellows and brilliant oranges,
  the breathtaking red leaves
  showcased their beauty
against the golden setting sun.
Then winter snows, drifting,
falling to the ground,
lit by the street lamp that
leads in to Schmeeckle Park.

c.2005
July through December 2005
Stevens Point, Wisconsin











 
Posted by Lisa at 9:11 PM