Today I took a walk in the park, not actually a park but a deserted golf course. The grass was brown and sere, encroached by weeds, but there is beauty here.
The weeds are crowned by old and dried blossoms silvered by the sun. The dark fir trees and the cedars are accented by the brilliant yellow aspens. The alders, graceful willows, bushes and reeds framing the ponds are wearing their autumn colours of yellow ochre and pale browns. The trees encircling the gently sloping ground show flashes of red amidst the bronze, gold and yellowing foliage.
The pathways are carpeted with fallen leaves, pine needles and cones. It is quiet here but it is not silent. There is the rustling of leaves in the trees, the whisper of leaves falling softly to the ground.
A frog “carr-rumphs” in the reeds, a chickadee “dee-dee-dees” from a tree. A quail in the bushes calls an alarm on hearing approaching footsteps, acknowledged by a short, quick reply from the hidden families. A noisy flypast of mallards passes overhead, a squadron of mergansers quietly patrols the pond.
Here in the heart of the city the sounds of hustle and bustle are not heard. It is an oasis of peace and quiet where cares of the day disappear, where mind, body and spirit are refreshed. It is nature’s simple and much needed prescription for health and well-being.