![]() ![]() I noticed one tree had a kite stuck in its branches. And it seemed they had made effort, over decades, to hold hands with each other- trunks planted twenty feet apart, they had eventually accomplished a touching of branches, probably an underground mingling of roots too. ![]() ![]() Without their leaves, in the late fall, and punctuated with this dense mist, I felt I could see them in glowing relief. They’re giants and their forked branches seem to reach toward each other on all sides. These oaks are probably over a hundred years old based on their size and the fact that many of the apartment buildings in my neighborhood were built around 1905, the trees were probably planted with the buildings. The park has giant oaks scattered around a loop, a grassy field in the center of the walking path. Several days in a row this fall were extremely misty the mist settled between the trees and sat on the dying grass and dirt. I’ve visited this park for nearly twenty years, never as regularly as I do now, since we got this pandemic dog. I walk every morning in Mount Prospect Park, a block from my home, where my dog can run off leash for half an hour before I start my work day. ![]()
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