This past Sunday was Easter, a time when many of us have family over for a holiday meal and to just hang out.
I know, I know, it's also a religious day, as in holy day. But that's beside the point. Most of us have traditions that get us through the holidays, the days, years, which is the point I'm getting to.
Years ago, when I'd quit driving cab, but my better half still drove, I decided to take a walk through a nearby park after putting the turkey into the oven. I'd already bake the pies, and wouldn't have to start the mashed potatoes, etc. for a few hours, so since the back entrance to the park is only a few houses away, I figured I'd burn some calories from the big meal ahead of time.
I picked one of the horse trails that I usually didn't go through the rest of the year for several reasons. It would take a good hour to head to the end of the trail and back; the scenery was a little different, and therefore, seemed a little more of a tradition (the holiday path is how I came to think of it); and the old standard, "just because." It was nice seeing the subtle changes from holiday to holiday.
Palm Frond, Easter, 2010
For the record, the holidays I'd go out for this walk remained the same three: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. I tried keeping up with this tradition, even after my better half retired. He'd use the time for a nap (who can't use a nap or two on the holidays!), while I got my alone time wandering through the wooded park. True, there were some holidays when I didn't make it out: One Christmas, it rained most of the day; another year, I'd fallen off a ladder the end of October, and wasn't up to a walk on Thanksgiving. But for the most part, it remained that tradition.
Most of the time, I'd walk through the park by myself, though there were a few times when my next-to-youngest son, M., came with me. We'd talk about different things, but one thing that sticks out is this: There are lamps throughout the park to light up the horse path around twilight. These lamps are very cool looking, almost retro-ish, like something you'd expect to see in early twentieth century London. And so, one Thanksgiving, M. mentioned that these lamps reminded him of C.S. Lewis's Narnia series. I asked M. about them, as I knew that there were two different orders of the books: the order in which Lewis wrote them, and the chronological order of them. M. used most of the hour-long walk to regale me about the books.
Then, on Christmas, M. came with me again.
"See that lamp?" he asked, pointing out the first one. "It reminds me of the lamps in Narnia." And he was off and gabbing. When Easter came, and M. came with me, I pointed out the lamp, then requested he not spend the hour talking about Narnia. (By the way, I now am the proud owner of the entire series. That's it, I have to read them!)
The only photo of one of the lamps. It's half-way down the path on the left-hand side. Look close...
I enjoyed seeing the subtle changes from holiday to holiday, year to year. One part of the woods always seemed easy to spot change. It was a stand of pale trees that looked different from most of the trees throughout the park. They were on my left, just before the turn-around point, and had a short path through them that went to part of a recreation center.
Lighter barked trees
Path, from rec center to horse path
Slowly, over the years, the stand changed, shifted. Trees fell, younger ones grew, the path disappeared, so that it's no longer there. It looks almost a total wreck.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Several years ago, on my Easter walk, I was tired, and had trouble keeping up my usual pace. So, I took my time, looking around at the different trees, the changes in the park, that sort of thing. I was actually exhausted, and probably should have stayed home, but after a few rough months - getting rid of a difficult roommate, losing my mom - I wanted to get out for my traditional walk. That was the first time I noticed what I've come to think of as the dancing tree.
Dancing Tree, Thanksgiving 2017
And again, Easter, 2019
Half-way to the end of the path - or, rather, my turn-around spot - the path turns to the left. Looking straight ahead, just before one turns, is a row of homes that were built several years ago. They weren't there the first few years I went for my walk. Now, I'm used to them, and enjoy hearing families talking in that sometimes-quiet-often-boisterous way that the holidays bring out. I could always spot which houses had the gatherings in full swing by the amount of chatter coming from the open windows.
One year, I discovered this plant behind the new houses. Unfortunately, it was one of the plants that was cut back.
At the end of the short road that the new-ish homes are is a white fence, signaling a dead end. On the other side of the fence was a cool older Florida-style home. I was always intrigued by it. One year, I even noticed a sign by the garage: Park Taxi Parking Only. Park Taxi had been a cab company in Pinellas Park that was bought out almost 30 years ago by one of the bigger cab companies. My ex had worked for the owners of Park Taxi.
I wondered about the sign, and later discovered that the old taxi owner had bought the house. I knew that the owners had split up after selling Park Taxi, but hadn't realized that the male half of the equation had moved to this house.
The sign that first got my attention
W.'s house, garage, property
Back porch
After learning that it had belonged to W., had been, most likely, the last place he lived before he passed away, I had thought it would be interesting to consider buying the place. It's yard was right up against part of the park, was surrounded by a fence on the north side (the other side of the white fence was the end of a short street with fairly new, nice-looking houses), a stable on the south side, and woods around the property.
One of the last times I passed the house, maybe a year or more ago, the back porch was littered with beer cans, as though either homeless people had camped out there, or someone had broken in and had a party on the back porch.
Wow, I hope someone ends up buying the place and fixing it up nicely, I thought, realizing that I would probably never come up with a down payment.
But it turned out, it had been bought. No one moved into it. Instead, the house and woods were torn down to put in apartments.
Where W.'s house had been
There was also a huge stand of trees a little farther along, at my turn-around point, that was torn down, as homeless people frequently slept there.
Missing trees at the turn around point. This had been heavily wooded.
I hadn't seen the destruction of woods at the turn-around point or where W.'s house had been over Thanksgiving or Christmas, 2018, as I had gone to the beach with my daughter, to relax and take photos (check out A Year (or More) of Photos, then type in either Thanksgiving or Christmas, 2018 for time spent there). But as I walked back home on Sunday, saddened by some of the changes, I began to realize that it might be time for a new holiday tradition - or, at least, a new place to walk.
