A Walk in the Park

Photos from the other day, sans creep. 

When you first enter the big park, a hill covered in towering pines greets you.  In the grass to the left of the wide path of concrete-made-to-look-like-stone-paving, sprout circles of stumps, waiting to welcome the weary or those who want to sit for a chat.



So much more convivial than benches. The relaxed, friendly atmosphere has a counter, though. Police barracks, fences, and security cameras line the right side of the path, making you more nervous than reassured. Why the need for such measures, you wonder.

When you crest the hill, the sparkle of sun-dazzled waves beckons you, promising that the climb back up the slope won't be too arduous, so why don't you just mosey on down.  When you tire of looking at the water,



you can have a seat, just not this one; it's taken:



But there's plenty of room by the cowherd beneath the oaks. Maybe she'll even give you that pair of mittens she's knitting.*



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* I know this is a crummy photo, but to my great sadness and annoyance with myself, I am still too shy to approach people and ask if I may take their picture.  I saw her knitting but don't know if it really was mittens. I see a lot women sitting on the street who are knitting mittens, so perhaps this woman was, too.

On the Corner of Blue and Tree

One day, not long ago, happily minding my business on the Internet, I saw a photo of blue trees for artist Konstantin Dimopoulos' "afforestation art action."

I didn't think much on it besides wondering how the trees were painted, how long it would last, etc., and then, not a week later, at a certain museum in the town I'm currently staying in,* I saw a painting with blue trees:

Never two without three, as they say in France, a few days later, while wandering down a small side street in search of Christmas cards, we came nose to needle with a blue Christmas tree. And I don't mean a blue spruce. I mean blue tree, like this:

In all its awful 7-foot blue-tinsel glory.  Forgive me if this kind of tree floats your holiday boat. I think it is almost as shudder-worthy as the unholy tree, personally.

This post brought to you by the color...

You only thought I was going to say the B-word.

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*We weren't supposed to be taking pics in the museum, but we didn't notice the sign forbidding it. J offered to erase the images from our card when museum staff brought it to our attention, but they didn't insist. I plan on sharing more about the museum and art there, but I'll do it in a locked post with photos visible only to friends.