I live in the city. A small city but still city. I am surrounded by concrete, by cars, by people, by noise and by all that city entails.
I am a creature of the country. My spirit lives in natural places... in open sun filled fields and forests deep and dark, in pasture and in ploughed earth... in canyons, in mountains and sky. I am not city, I don't belong.
My spirit longs to escape and be free once more, to find home again in nature and to shed the mantle of city dweller.
Yet here in this city I found a place. A secret garden of sorts but not secret and not a garden. Just a place which has become a small escape for a trapped soul.
My city is dissected by power lines, huge high tension towers linked together with wires which seem to stretch on forever. Each row of towers feeding the ever hungry electrical grid and connecting my city with endless other cities.
Beneath these towers runs a corridor that is left natural. Beneath is a greenbelt... an area left wild and uncivilized. It is an area of vibrant life in an otherwise concrete world. Crisscrossed with foot paths worn deep into thick grasses, grasses which are mowed but never dominated by man. It is a mini haven for man and beast.
The area directly underneath each tower reflects an individuality of spirit. Some have large tree-like shrubs growing beneath them. Others are smothered by vines while many more are bowers for Burdock's, Queen Anne's lace and Sumac's. Beneath some, are grasses, unkept and wild as nature would have it. Left to grow tall and wave in every breeze.
The green corridors go for miles in a living tapestry. Weaving between and behind homes, beneath large apartment condo buildings, around schools and beneath roads along tunnels. It is a green ribbon through grey, it is a place where the soul can inhale. A place to breathe deeply of the land, of nature and the very essence of life.
Yet humanity is everywhere. Hidden behind the old growth trees along the corridor edges, lies the city. Hidden behind the tall reeds lining a small stream lie homes. Hidden behind the bushes, shrubs and smaller trees which create a maze through which to walk, are the vestiges of humanity.
It is a tiny woodland park. Filled with squirrels, with birds and with animals both wild and leashed. It is a haven for those with dogs, a place to let them run free for a few moments to let them just be dogs. A place to stretch their legs and yours as well... a place for them to smell the scents of nature, yet be able to return to civilization at their masters command.
I walk this secret garden rain or shine. Sometimes the sky is grey and dark. It is then the garden becomes quiet and soft... with the small noises from the brush, like gentle scratches on velvet, barely loud enough to reach the ear. Yet just enough to let the ear know that life always lives in that brush.
Sometimes the sky is blue and filled with light and joy. The green grass leaps at the eye, almost shimmering with the glow. Birds sing harmonies to join the humming you seem unable to stop from bubbling within as you walk. The shear glory of it all wraps you in a sunny warmth.
In spring and summer the corridor is brilliant in an ever changing medley of greens... some tender and delicate and others a deep dark hunter but all filled with life.
In autumn it is a blaze of color. Yellows, orange, scarlet... deep dark reds now blended with the vibrant greens. The place becomes transformed in a kaleidoscope of color.
Yet the beauty is fleeting and as the days become colder and darker, the color slowly gives way to a more formal spectrum. Waving grasses turn soft beige, leaves turn from reds and yellows to rust, vines become brown. Soon the earth is revealed, as grasses die and foliage falls from shrubs. Rich dark soil flaunts itself to the sun for brief moments and then disappears into the shadows again. It is a somber time as the land prepares to hibernate, resting for the seasons to come.
Winter arrives to create a wonderland of shapes. Soft mounds were once bushes, trees are draped and the pathways are now narrow corridors through foot deep snow. On sunny days the snow is iridescent... blindingly so. On grey days the snow brightens an otherwise darkened world. Shapeless forms, depth-less passages and endless white are all that exist.
Yet snow reveals life. Tiny tracks appear... birds, mice, rabbits tread softly through it, revealing the struggle for life. Sometimes the white reveals a demise as well.
Slowly the cycle changes, white disappears and soft browns appear. Browns disappear and a hint of green shows. Soon green dominates and with it brilliant bursts of color everywhere.
Beneath the towers, nature is in control. Life has found a way and goes on through all the seasons, through the lives of man and beast. This is complete harmony... and a harmonic symphony is played the year round.
This is music to my ears.
