Essentially the Only One

This serious looking statue is a representation of Dr. Edmund A. Babler, a St. Louis surgeon. The statue and the 3.8 square mile park in which it sits were commissioned and donated by Dr. Babler's brothers in his memory. Quite a memorial.

The park itself is found west of St. Louis in Wildwood and consists of rolling hills on the south side of the Missouri River.

It's a rather beautiful park, but one I've avoided for many years because I have associated it with my first marriage. It was a fairly common hangout at that time, and is clearly still popular with young West St. Louis County residents. This little group camped out beneath the statue very much resembled those I was part of in my younger days - it was a little eerie seeing them. Almost as if time had turned back.Still, I have made it a sub-textual objective of mine to wash this entire region free of older and unhappier memories and my explorations over the past few years have worked towards this happy goal.

Just how far I have come was clear to me as I re-explored this pretty wood on Sunday afternoon. Dark emotions that would have clouded any such visit a decade or so ago were not there. I felt quite relaxed. Not altogether surprising - I have put together a very full and satisfying life since. But you never know...I drove through the woods, finding these little pavilions that once I had partied under, now showing a delightful mossy age to match my own. A little further on I came to a burned-out building; too enthusiastic a camp fire, I guessed. Still, it gave me a pretty evening view though the bare trees.While taking this shot, a very fit and energetic disabled woman swung by on her racing tricycle and asked me to move my car so she could access her van's wheelchair lift. She then did me the favor of spotting a deflated rear tire on my Toyota - not flat, but getting close. A brief interaction, but enough to generate a sense of the park of today and not a repository of yesterday's memories. For that, I was as grateful to her as I was about the tire, but I did not tell her so. Home then, out past the central area with that imposing statue, with those old memories vacuumed up and away into the sky.

The Mississippi is in flood, unusual for November. I took the train downtown after work to catch these images.

Just as this day (7 October) felt like the true pivot between summer and autumn (and dropping temperatures and relentless rain since seem to confirm this impression), yesterday evening felt like the first beginning of winter.

Only a hint, and more by the light than by the temperature that was still moderate or by the deciduous leaves, that, although now in main part gold and brown, still cling to their trees and, in some cases, remain resolutely green.

Still, there are bare trees to be seen and leaves gathering on the ground. It had been a clear, bright day until near the very end. Now a thin layer of cloud gathered on the horizon, veiling the sun. As the light failed, the temperature dropped and a slight shiver of cold passed through me.

That, and the gorgeous light you see in the photograph above, filled me with wintry thoughts. Pleasant thoughts. I am beginning to see, as I age, the delights of every season - indeed of every day. At times, I wonder how I managed to let so much of my life slip by without this awareness. Preoccupied by cares and worries or simply too depressed to register the beauties of the present.

There were good reasons why I felt so at those times, and it is in the overcoming of those barriers that I gained the wisdom to see as I do today. It is fruitless to regret your past, even as I have some reason for regret. What interests me today is how I have returned to some of the wonder and curiosity of my childhood, but completely free of the fears of the future that all-too-frequently accompanied those youthful thoughts. I find this to be a state of grace, and if I had pass through some painful periods to reach it, then they were well used.

Was today the pivot between summer and autumn in St. Louis? Walking through Forest Park at midday, it certainly felt that way.

There were wildflowers blooming all around me, butterflies and grasshoppers too, and a warm sun in a bright blue sky swiftly generated a sense of overheating under my jacket and sweatshirt.

Everything looked very green, yet not wholly so. One or two trees were turning to yellow, and the faintest tint of autumn color brushed others.The grasses in particular revealed a rich palette of greens, yellows, browns and reds. Almost everything quivered with the vibrancy of summer, yet in a few days it will all turn. Then we'll see the bright oranges and reds, but today I was enjoying the subtleties before that change. Something I have not put much mind to in the past. I am glad I did so today.

A shot taken from the driveway of the house catching the steps, maize plants (we grew good corn this year) and the Halloween pumpkin.

This is a heavily processed image, with diffusion, saturation and shadows all tweaked. The dreamy look represents my sleepy state of mind today very well.

Some things are so routine that I give them little thought.

Like the walk down my street to the bus stop every work day morning.

But, this morning, I gave it a little more mind. The morning sun was still low and shining yellow through the trees. It looked very pretty.

A reminder that beauty is all around you; all you have to do is look.

So I took this photograph - one, I might add, of a series that I've been experimenting with, trying to capture that elusive light - this morning and I liked it.

So here it is. The path that leads from my house to the bus stop. No more than three minutes or so, and then a short wait for the bus, and, frequently, a conversation with Carl. He's a house painter/handyman who is often on his way to his boss's house just up the road and loves to dawdle with conversation.

He gets about five minutes in before the No. 60 arrives. I find it a fine way to start the work day.

Cheering me as I walked home tonight.

It's a cold, gray and wet day today, but a couple of days ago it was both warmer and sunnier. The same trip that found us looking at pelicans showed the Illinois/Missouri fall countryside in its best light, particularly in this photograph taken at the Two Rivers National Wildlife Refuge. Unfortunately, the reservation is largely closed at this time of year, so I was unable to get much further into it, but in a way that was a good thing too - there was hardly anyone around!

I particularly like the shadow of a dead tree on the rock face in this photograph, contrasting as it does with the autumnal colors.

I tend to underestimate just much beautiful countryside there is around St. Louis, not least because I live in a suburb just outside the city proper. A trip like this is a useful reminder.

It has been an unusual week for feeling peaceful. I am prone to anxiety, I am sad to say, and can get caught up in silly little irritations that spoil my mood. But not this week, even though it has been pretty busy and involved at work and at home with my wife working hard on a paper she is presenting at a conference at the end of the month and my son alternately liking and disliking his new middle school.

Easily enough there to get me worked up. But, no, nothing much at all bothering me these past days.

Wondering why, I think much of it has to do with enjoying the autumn changes. Bicycling to and fro from work is such a pleasure right now that I frequently extend my route to take in some particularly beautiful colors. The temperature is just right; not frozen but cool to warm. The weather has been varying from heavy rain (when the bus takes over from the bike) to clear blue skies, and the contrast in colors under these conditions is fascinating.

It amazes me still that I can look into a tree and see more art than I might find in the Louvre, all free, totally transient and completely entrancing. Sometimes, when I think of paintings hanging in their pristine galleries or millionaires' homes, I feel that we focus too much on what hangs on the wall and not enough on what the artist actually saw. Especially now that art has become such a valuable and prized commodity, with the dollar worth of a painting often being the first and most prominent descriptor.

So to look at that source, those trees and their ancestors who have inspired so many, reminds me that the natural world is the first and best wellspring of beauty. That is a very mellowing thought.