We went to the park last Thursday. JD and Monkey called from their way back home to declare that we are all going, and I can just walk while they ride their bikes. So we did, I did, they did. It was all good and maybe even a little great, except for the part where we forgot our camera and the bread products I intended to feed to the ducks so as to get them out of our house before Passover. By the time Monkey and I got to the same park yesterday, the colors were much brighter and in many more places. The spring is now here, for real.
Check out the fish. Trippy, no?
We brought the bread this time too, and even the long-distance lens for the camera.
And so it was, as I was watching Monkey dole out the baked goods so very generously,
and then putting the poor bird through the after snack exercise routine,
that I had my own wise son moment. I realized the application of the mysterious prohibition on deriving benefit from one's hametz (leavened bread) was not all about rabbis sitting around with nothing better to talk about. For we, both of us, were clearly deriving benefit from the hametz we didn't get rid of in time.
When all the bread was finally gone (and all the birds likely fit to serve at a holiday meal, because, dudes, given the volume of bread we showed up with, they must've been stuffed), we were finally free to move about the premises.
Monkey ran around, and I got some shots.
I actually spotted this tree last week, and made the mental note to come back with the camera. I am not sure how or why I never noticed it before, but I am happy to have found it now.
I was busy shooting the weird shapes when Monkey called to me from right inside the skeletal canopy. Mama, look-- somebody wrote on the tree. Many somebodies, it seems.
And what is this about?
A very stubborn leaf, message of a spring and a fall gone by, it appears. Telling me the tree is likely going to be covered in green, and soon. The pity, really-- I am guessing it will look gentrified and so much less impressive then.