A WALK IN THE PARK

I have been coming to Elizabeth Park for almost 40 years.

I grew up across the water, on Grosse Ile, so the park was close enough that when I was young, I would often walk across the bridge and go there to skip school and hang out. And believe me; I was not alone.

Those were the 70’s, the birth of my hippie days. My first taste of the Beatles was at this park sitting with friends under a big tree, playing guitars and singing songs.

Now in my fifties, I will occasionally come here in the summertime to go walking. I don’t see too many hippies though. Nope. I must be the last of them, huffing and puffing and walking in circles around the park. I don’t usually notice my surroundings too much either, I’m too busy trying to breathe and not get run over by a car.

Funny thing is, in all these years I have never once come here in the wintertime.

Until now.

I awake on this morning in the last week of December, to a light and beautiful snowfall, and snap a couple of pics outside of my patio door before getting the idea to venture out on a picture-taking adventure.

I text my good friend, Patti, who is usually game for such spontaneous abstract-ness, and before long we are sufficiently outfitted in proper winter attire, holding cameras in excited hands, and in Elizabeth Park.

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And let me just say that when Elizabeth Park is all dressed in white . . . she is Pure Michigan magic.

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She’s a winter wonderland and simply takes my breath away.

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Her bridges are quite romantic and photogenic.

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You don’t have to be a great photographer or even have a good camera to capture all her glory!

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We view another bridge and its visitors.

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Our proud and glorious American flag.

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The snow is wet and continuous, so we wrap it up and call it a day. This is from inside the car on our way out. Our day is over.

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Now, it is a couple of days later . . . actually, the last day of the year, and this crabby old gal, feeling emotionally upset, restless, and in a funk, ventures back to the park alone.

It is early morning, very cold, and divinely quiet.

I stop at the entrance to the park. Here you can see Grosse Ile on the other side of the bridge.

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Meet a few of the locals who are just hanging out.

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I drive on, passing the location of my previous visit. There’s a bird’s nest high up in a tree near the road, so I park the car and walk over to snap a pic of it.

Instead I make a joyful discovery and spend most of my time shooting these little darlings. I wouldn’t call them hippies. How about naturalists?

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I have to really zoom in to figure out what this jet-black furry mass is located high up in the tree. My camera blurs but I swear he’s making a face at me. And he doesn’t look all too pleased! Yikes!

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I remind myself to look up even further . . .

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Past the trees . . . to the skies.

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I look down just in time to catch a rare glimpse of the ever- elusive Michigan Blue Bunny.

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I’m missing my bff and partner in crime right about now and thinking what wonderful pics she would be capturing with her high-tech fancy-shmancy CELL PHONE! We are like two peas . . . the same, but different.

Just a couple of old . . .

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I smile, shrug it off, and get back into the car.

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These are in hibernation. And waiting.

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I drive to the other side of the park.

In the background you can see the Wayne County Bridge, commonly called “The Free Bridge”, which connects mainland Trenton to Grosse Ile.

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Here’s a close-up of the Free Bridge.

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This one is taken through a hand railing.

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The waterfront is cold and lonely.

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Sometimes it’s good to remember to look . . . down.

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I begin my drive out of the park and pause to reflect back on all the incredible sites.

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I exit the park with intentions of re-entering from West Jefferson Road, and see this snow covered gnarly looking tree while on my way.

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I call these Whispies. I’m just too lazy to find out what their real name is. I climb into them and take a pic.

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The bridge from the other side. It’s romantic and wistful and magical.

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The irony of this experience has not escaped me.

Today’s pictures of Elizabeth Park have been viewed and taken through old and new eyes. I guess it just goes to show you that it’s never too late to rediscover something that you’ve looked at your whole life.

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” – Heraclitus

With these final photographs of 2012, I leave behind a very challenging and difficult year . . .

. . . And swim towards the future, and a brand new day full of hope, opportunity, and potential.