During my yearly stays in Maryland for Thanksgiving, I remember how much I miss seeing the trees in Fall and moving into winter. I drove by a landscape on a dreary, gray day on the side of a winding road. There were several trees, completely stark, black and set against the overcast, lit, sky. In the midst of these wintered trees stood a smaller tree with brown bark peeling into white. The tree held the same red-orange leaves which blanketed the entire area as well as the receding forest.
At around 5:00pm on Saturday, Renee (friend since 5th grade), Sam (her boyfriend), and I drove to Rock Creek Park and parked near stables which Sam claimed should not have existed in a small park in the middle of D.C. We walked down through a forest (different forest) along the multiple horse trails, finding nobody but ourselves and one passing runner there. We came upon a large puddle of muddy water which surrounded the beginning curve of an open area filled with piles of various items. It was a large ring, a clearing in the middle of the woods. There were large piles of gravel, red rocks, bricks (as one would see on a construction site), and a small forklift, sitting and slightly neglected. To the right of this clearing was what looked like a small city of stacked cement slabs, some decorated with scrolled carvings, as can be seen at the top of some columns on buildings. They were stacked high so we had to climb on them. These large pieces of cement, creating a small, walled city became even more similar to a graveyard when Renee mentioned that these were pieces of the old Capitol building. People had moved the pieces to this clearing after the renovation. We sat on top of the stack, probably about ten feet tall, and watched four deer in the distance. Two of them were Bucks... and had antlers. The hills in the forest cascaded down and we wandered around for a while over there, spotting huge cement cylinders lying on the grass, spots of spanning mud, and a setting sun.
We sat on the bed of Sam's truck and watched the sky turn from gray and blue to dark pink and orange, through hundreds of tall, black, slender trees. There branches crossed and intersected because they were so close together. The cold clung to every bit of the air around us.
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Initially, your opening reflections reminded me of why I appreciate the beauty of Audubon Park and the walking tour that we experienced. In addition, I also thought of the advances of technology that have been done within our time and the period in which the Romantics emerged. Although the times were somewhat different, several similarities were prevalent. The common thread seems to be that of technology, often the negative effects, that it has on society. For the Romantics, landscapes and buildings were abundant. Despite this, however, they still seemed to find a way to appreciate nature and absorb it in a way to create art. So, when I did walking the tour in Audubon, I felt at peace. It was easy for me to ignore the car horns, the screeching of the street car breaks, the sounds of cell phones and other aspects of the bustling, chaotic city life, to absorb the tranquility that nature had to offer. As I read your post, I noticed that you were able to do the same, whether aware of it or not. Each time you pointed out the various components of the disnatured place, naturistic elements were there. As you spoke of the concrete slabs and the forklift, you also mentioned the four deer and the puddle of muddy water. Although it is often difficult to view nature, I think that being able to identify it as such, despite all of the unnatural objects, shows nature at its beauty. I might even argue that it helps us or even forces us to appreciate it more.
ReplyDeleteMolly,
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the originality of your blog. It’s creative non-fiction at its finest; an attempt to capture the spirit of Romanticism is a non-analytic way. If anything, your blog reinforced for me Shelley’s notion that Romanticism (although he doesn’t specifically address it as such) is essentially anything that deals with progress. Your imagery is twofold: in trying to paint the surrounding natural imagery, you cannot get away from the many industrial changes, such as the abandoned forklift. But there also exists a peaceful coexistence in your writing—the cement cylinders are juxtaposed next to the setting sun, creating unison.
As I said, I enjoyed this piece and I’d love to read more like it.