A short saunter away from my home on Spring Street there is a park – Prospect Park. I have been coming to this park all my life. I have seen her in all her seasons, in all sorts of weather, at all times of day, but perhaps my favorite time of all are those mornings in early spring; when the snow has begun his retreat from the sun, who himself has once again found the confidence in his rays to stick around a little longer each passing day; when the hustle and bustle of forest-dwelling critters who are once again falling into their day-to-day routines can finally be heard; when the birds in the trees begin to sing their serenade to the season of rebirth. This is when the park truly reflects her history, and serves as a living testament to the axiom that death is nothing more than the beginning of new life.
Nonetheless, the spring is still young, evidenced chiefly by the young buds on the trees. Only the ivies have begun to show their leaves, taking early advantage of the lengthening days. Despite a lack of foliage, the birds have already set about their business, and their songs have begun a mighty crescendo, which will rise all the way until the onset of autumn. Even the birds of prey have once again taken to the skies in hopes of an easier search for food, now that the snow has retreated far enough to reveal the creatures who, during winter’s harsh and bitter cold, took shelter within. Come another month or so, the flowers and the trees will all have begun to bloom, and the park will be cast in a tint of green until Earth once again turns us away from the sun.
Before the park was established, the land had been used as a private estate, and also as a hospital later on. In one of the photos below, you’ll see the crown attraction of the park, which is her beautiful gardens and old ruins. This place is known as The Garden of Sweet Remembrance. As the name suggests, the ruins have been a place of solace for people throughout history going through the ultimate loss. In 2020, a girl I went to high school with at the time took her own life. To immortalize her spirit, residents of my town undertook efforts to restore the park to better reflect her former beauty. In doing so, they restored much more than just a park, but also a place in which people can come to reconvene with loved ones now passed. And now, at the beginning of spring, as the world glows brighter and greener with the rebirth of life, that garden reminds us all that those we lose are never truly gone; only scattered to the sands of time – destined, as we all are, to someday become something beautiful and new.
