A Sunday Visit with Friends

ALAN writes:
Last Sunday I spent six hours at my local park. It was an ideal day: Clear blue sky, warm sunshine, occasional breezes, and the green in the park that seems to increase by the day. People who are hip, cool, and trendy would probably find such an afternoon hopelessly boring. At least I hope they would if it keeps them away from me.
Throughout the afternoon I walked around a lake several times, pausing now and then to sit on benches at opposite ends of the lake. I sat on “The Duck Lady”‘s bench, placed there in remembrance of a woman who lived near the park and found homes with people who wanted to adopt them for ducks who had not learned how to forage for themselves. I meditated, absorbed the ambient beauty, listened to birdsong, and constructed conversations in imagination with long-dead friends.
On a day in March when I walked through that park, a group of “newborn daffodils were showing off their skills…,” as Nat Cole sang in the 1963 ballad “That Sunday, That Summer”. And now they are gone. (more…)