I frequently go to Forest Park from my studio about a mile north of it, wandering down allies and zig-zagging through streets made narrow or one-way in a conscious effort by the City of Saint Louis to slow traffic. The traffic lights are annoyingly long when trying to cross Lindell into the park, giving priority to those traveling on the east/west axis and glowering at the rest of us. 

My destination was the northeast corner of the park, near the statue of Frank Preston Blair, Jr., one of St. Louis’ most notable defenders of the Un

Today is Wednesday and tomorrow my Thursday night photography shoot is themed after “Alice in Wonderland”, so I was in the studios setting up four shooting bays for our photographers and models to use tomorrow. We have the Mad Hatter’s tea party, a combination of croquette with flamingos and hedgehogs and painting the roses red, the falling down the rabbit hole scene, and the caterpillar smoking a hookah on the mushroom set, the last of these complete with dry ice and a smoke machine.

But setting up all of these and chasing around town

Rebecca’s school had an event today, on the picnic grounds between the Zoo and the successional forest by the Jewel Box, and since it has been a while since I explored the swamp and woods there, decided to park and wander rather than just drop her off. Besides, the forecast was for more rain this week, so I wanted to seize the day.

Being situated between two hills,

It was time today to get it out of the corner and back into the world, that painter’s pole I use for gaining perspective on this old world of ours. I had seen a couple of robin’s nests in my previous wanderings and thought maybe I could get some bird’s nest photos. So I dragged my friend A.G. out into the midday sun and the two of us went nest hunting. We found the robin nests

Easter Sunday in Saint Louis was the ideal day for a 365 project. The sky was dialed to maximum blue, and the cirrus and cumulus clouds danced together in celestial harmony, floating lazily above our park’s decked out crabapple, cherry, redbud, dogwood and other flowering trees. In a shady glade by a slow-moving stream, wild flowers bloomed, and all through the park couples young and old sat, walked, ran, cycled and drove, not a few on the electric scooters that have become the new favorites of the millennial crowd. 

I climb the hill at the western end of Lagoon Drive upon which the Cascades are situated, and in the woods there I find bits of trash and broken glass, empty cigarette packs, smashed beer cans, a bottle or two, a Cheetos wrapper, some old metal sign posts, a bit of clothing, empty Styrofoam cups, and the other signs of too close an association with man. But in those same woods the red buds blossom, the trees sprout new golden-green leaves, the sound of the water flowing down the hill crowds out the noise of the city. There’s a pungent aroma from the mulch from the Daffodil beds at the bottom of the hill that permeates the trees and robins, sparrows and squirrels flit along the floor of the forest.

When I was a young warthog, theories of doom and gloom were all the rage, and the predictions for the future involved famine, shortages, death and destruction (some things don’t change), but one of the arresting “truths” promulgated in those dark days of the 1970’s was the notion that most of the world’s population from the beginning of time is alive today. Now, I don’t know where that idea originated, but even a cursory examination of such an assertion by your ordinary ignoramus

As I arrive in Forest park for the day’s adventure, the egret who had been patrolling the east side of Jefferson lake, takes off suddenly, a  blur of white rising from the water’s edge, but to my right I spy a cardinal feeding in an elm tree, the red of his coat vivid against the rich green of the tree in which he feasts. He perches confidently on a narrow branch, plucking seeds and gorging himself. As I start to walk south beside the lake’s edge, out flies a Kingfisher from a nearby tree chattering excitedly. He makes a loop around the lake to the north and then heads south, away

In my end-of-day wanderings through the park, I often think of Andrew Marvell’s amazing 17th century “Baby, let’s get it on!” poem, “To His Coy Mistress.” Not that I’m thinking of a person, but rather of the underlying theme of mortality. We each of us have a limited time on this earth, so let us carpe the diem and do some worthwhile things. For me, that worthwhile thing is photography and connecting with people. Wait, that’s two worthwhile things! And I get to do them at the same time! Two birds, one camera!

Yes, I know they won’t last forever, and that into our lives more rain will fall, but that doesn’t mean I was going to enjoy these skies any less! I sat on the sidewalk in front of the Jewel Box to get some low angle shots of the tulips, and while I was there I practiced getting up again without pushing myself off the ground. It is more difficult with two cameras and a backpack, but yes, I can rock my body forward and stand up from a sitting position without touching the ground (or the floor or the walk or the street). This simple feat gives me a rather oversized sense of accomplishment every time

Today, in case you weren’t aware, was Tax Day, and I, true to my usual form, was wrestling with my tax forms. I managed to finish earlier than I usually do, and got in an hour of riding my bicycle through the park. It’s hard, though, to take photos while moving, and also not the best way to see what’s going on in the world around you. So after picking R up from school

Sunday afternoon, after the rain (and even a bit of snow), the wind blew, and blew, and the last remnants of winter seemed to be blown away. By the World’s Fair pavilion, the tulips rejoiced, silver linden, white redbud and red crabapple blossomed along the sidewalks, and between the staircases a host of golden daffodils fluttered and danced in the breeze. 

Down by Kerth fountain, the wind blew

If you’ve been paying attention to Forest Park over the last few years, you will have seen some rather radical changes to the management of the space which has been called “Saint Louis’ town square.” Over the last 8 or so years we have had controlled burns in areas of the park, an intense program of eradication invasive species and the expansion of the wild areas within the park. Today I chanced upon a crew of volunteers, led by Gary Schimmelpfenig, planting plugs of native grasses in the Kennedy Woods Savanna. I watched for a while before wandering into the woods,

I am on the west side of Jefferson lake where the red-eared sliders are sunning themselves on the water lily pots in the center of the south end of the water. The lawn between it and Faulkner Drive is dense with spring beauty and violets, and the early afternoon sun is casting delicate shadows on the grass. There is a translucency to the first budding of the trees,

Thursday was a busy day in America’s Premier urban park, and I was privileged to be out and about with many of my fellow citizens, enjoying the spring air in between sneezes and sniffles. Carrying my camera work to new heights, I mounted my Fujifilm XT-20, with its fabulous 18-55mm kit lens, onto the end of a 9 foot tall, extendable painters pole, in order to gain a new perspective on the park. This is a technique I first tried in 2009, but at that time I had no way of remotely viewing the results, so while I did get some usable photos, it was very difficult to frame the images

As part of my year of serendipitous discovery in America’s premier urban park, I make an effort to leave no part of the park uncovered. I have, I think, walked every single part of the park in my previous inspection tours, and this year should not be different. 

So today I ventured to wander once more in the Kennedy Forest on the park’s southwest corner, by Skinker Boulevard. It is a true eastern

At the bottom of the steps from the bridge over the Metro Link and Forest Park Parkway, a shopping bag sat, with a pair of light brown leather shoes at the top. It was Deja vu all over again, I thought. I seem to have a knack for finding the strange. The scent of a cologne was lingering by the bag. I looked around to see who was near, and there didn’t seem to be an owner in the vicinity, so I snapped a photo and thought about what to do next. Then Anthony appeared.

A light exists in spring

Not present on the year

At any other period.

When March is scarcely here

I was humming the theme song from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood as I walked through the Kennedy Forest Sunday afternoon, accompanied by my faithful hound Rigby and equally faithful wife Barbara. It was indeed a beautiful day in the neighborhood! The late day sun streamed between the trees, their shadows reaching out toward us as we walked. Squirrels and the usual small birds flitted about the forest floor and between the various trees. A chipmunk fled the scene

Saturday was a very busy day for me, taking care of the final setup for the 4th annual St. Louis Photography Club contest. I managed to stop into the park for a short while on my way to the studio, but in that short time, there was still a lot to see. Saturday was busy in Forest Park as well, with some big events drawing thousands of people. The dew was heavy on the grass, and the