Friday the 5th was a cooler sort of day, the type that often comes between the warm ones in spring, and it inspired me to revisit the east side of the park by the Steinberg Rink. Just a few steps from the parking lot, up the hill towards Kingshighway was were I found the tiny mushrooms. 

Oh rainy day, oh rainy day,

I’m glad you’ve come, hope you don’t stay.

Sooner or later, the sun will come,

And chase you far away,

Oh rainy day, oh rainy day.

On the hill up from Pagoda Circle, south of the upper Muny parking lot, just a hop, skip and jump east of the Jewel Box sits the Korean War Memorial. I wasn’t alive during that conflict, but I was born and grew up in Korea, so its history has always been close to me. Part of that memorial is a monument honoring those involved in what was probably one of the fiercest and most difficult battles ever fought by US forces, complicated by bitter winter weather (with temperatures as low as 30 below zero F) and rough mountain terrain, a battle that was a strategic and remarkably

I’ve mentioned Spring Beauty before; a tiny flower no more than about 5/8 inch across (don’t you just love our SAE system of weights and measurements?), it never-the-less has a big place in my heart as a perennial visitor to the park. In fact, these little blooms are all over the park: between the Central Fields and the Steinberg Rink, around the edges of the Central Fields and next to the upper Muny parking lot. And there are a lot on the grassy knoll between the Zoo and the

It was in the Kennedy Forest today that I spied the tufted titmouse and the downy woodpecker. It was also there that I spied Moses’ rock, with the water bubbling up out of it, just as in days of old. And the furry fungus, the worm script, the flat grass and the message to Pop, carved in a vandalous fashion into the handrail of one of the boardwalks through the woods. 

My friend Mark Glenshaw has been assuring me for some time now that there are plenty of wood ducks in Forest Park, even if they have been acting rather shy around me. Up until yesterday, I had only seen one pair at a time, and was beginning to suspect I was seeing the same two birds each time. Yesterday I saw 3 pairs of wood ducks and today I counted

Another busy day, but this one was cold and wet, with wind and a lot of rain. I was under the mistaken impression that the Saint Louis Photography Club was hosting another Owl Prowl tonight with the one and only Mark Glenshaw, but I was somehow confusing today with tomorrow, the 31st of March. 

So I headed for the waterway in front of the Muny to see what might be lurking there and found 3 pairs of wood ducks. Prior to today I was suspecting

I like the idea of progress; I certainly thing it beats regress or even egress, but I digress. What I wanted today, Thursday, was to get some exercise, smash some old records and contribute to a new and improved me. At the end of the day, I think it is essentially still the old and pretty-much-the-same me that is hanging around on the planet, but I did manage to get some exercise, connect with a few people and reach a top speed of about 31 miles per hour as I raged around the park. Forest Park, that is. America’s premier urban park. The one they wish they had in every other city of any size anywhere in the world. 

I spent a lot of time experimenting with apertures today, deciding just how much depth of field I wanted. I usually shoot in aperture priority outdoors, since the light is frequently changing, and usually f5.6 in my setting of choice. Today, though, I was getting up close and personal, using both a 50mm macro and 16-35mm super wide lens for my flower photos. In this, the season of rain, it is vital to get out as much as possible when the sun is shining, both for photos and for sanity.

It was dark long before I got to Forest Park today. I spent the better part of the day running errands and constructing a 5 x 10 foot rolling platform to serve as a floor in our studio sets. I deconstructed (with a great deal of help from my good friend A.G. Shaw) a wooden packing crate from Sri Lanka and used the boards for the floor of the platform, making the frame of the unit of 2x4’s and setting it all on locking casters. That took more time than anticipated, and the studio

I was beginning to despair of finding any avian species in the park other than the usual suspects: mallards, robins, sparrows, starlings and Canada geese when nature reassured me that spring, with it’s greater diversity of visitors to the park, was indeed arriving. It was the Great Egret fishing by Langenberg Field that convinced me. After that it was smooth sailing. I sat and watched the egret as he stalked the water for his lunch. I saw him strike the water five times for a 40 percent success rate. They are patient, these fishing birds, moving slowly through the waters with neck craned, looking for any movement nearby that might betray the presence of a meal.

I started Sunday’s ramble by the city communications building, across from SLU High School, in the south east corner of the park. The building is underground, a cold war holdover, built to secure city communications in case of Soviet nuclear attack. Considering it is 62 years old, I’d say it’s done all right by itself. On the east side of the building, where the ground slopes up from Oakland Avenue to the grass and trees on top of the building itself (so the Russians can’t find it),

I was worried. At first I found them amusing, the pack of fourth graders, shrieking and shouting, that disturbed the relative peace of America’s premier urban park. Any group of humans can turn vicious, but I wasn’t expecting to be hounded by school children. Still, it seemed what ever direction I took, they followed. It wasn’t until I traipsed across the burned grasses in the Steinberg wild area that they elected to leave me alone. Perhaps it was too messy, perhaps too stinky (the pungent aroma of recent fire permeated the air), but it worked. 

I was over by the willow tree across Post Dispatch lake from Wildlife Island trying to catch the swing of the branches in the wind when I saw the debris by the park bench just a few yards away. I thought at first that one of the many homeless people in the area had left a few items there, but when I wandered over to take a closer look I saw a pair of socks and boots, while lying between them was someone’s wallet with a $10 bill peeping out of it, a can of Grizzly chewing tobacco, a set of keys and some change, and, on the grass beyond the concrete bench pad, a cell phone with its charger

You may not have noticed, but there have been folks out in the park setting it on fire. It’s all part of the plan, but it seems a bit strange to us ordinary mortals to come across areas of the park that are burned black. It supposedly helps get rid of invasive species and helps certain native grasses germinate. The birds seem to like the newly scorched areas and hop around on them to see what they can find. It’s mostly robins, sparrows and starlings, but occasionally I’ll see some other bird.

Tuesday was just the sort of day for a sortie to the Zoo, so that is just what Annette and I did. She wanted to go to all of her favorite haunts, so that’s what we did. Unlike the last time when we were here, the Zoo was packed with people young and old eager to see the animals and have a bite of some overpriced zoo food. The Chinese crocodiles were a little thrill, but the American alligator with his “Come over here, child.” look and wicked grins was a big thrill.

There is a lot of room in Forest Park! Although you could drive past on the highway in  under two minutes (depending on the time of day) it’s still the sort of place where you could easily spend all day wandering. And there is room enough to do almost anything! Hold a race; yes. Play ball; check. Ride your bicycle as fast as you can go; indeed. Wander lonely as a cloud; absolutely. Fly a kite up to the highest height; most certainly. Land your Klingon Bird of Prey; you betcha!

Yes, I do know that Sunday was Saint Patrick’s day, but not being one for crowds, particularly when they are parked in front of my house, and not having any Irish blood in me (Achtung!), I hunkered down in my Fortress of Solitude and sketched out super hero adventures with one of my friendly neighborhood superheros. When things had calmed down, and the acolytes of the man reputed to have driven snakes out of Ireland (if only he had stopped by my place in person) had finished their last beers and returned whence they came, then, and only then, did I venture to poke my head out of my lair