What is happening to our Ramble?
A little metal plaque dedicated to Charles Kennedy is fitted on the top slat of a wooden bench painted green and placed along a narrow asphalt path which leads to cozy little nooks and pools of water deeper into the Ramble. I would like to say the bench is in the middle of the Ramble but this beautiful piece of land possesses a great many places which can be called the middle.
The Ramble is precious to many of us since it hardly ever fails to make you forget the unkind spirit which is so prevalent on the streets of the rest of the city and even in many parts of the park itself.
Loose yourself with the antics of a pair of squirrels playing in a little flowerbed or follow a yellow bellied sapsucker up a sweet gum tree and do not despair that it’s getting dark because the subway or bus is never more than a few blocks away.
There is something about this parcel of woods which I try, even for moments at a time, to believe that the sun will never set and the day will carry on forever.
Sometimes I wish I could stumble upon some magical little doorway somewhere around those winding fences or even within a tree that I can slip into and escape the harsh and often pointless life I drag on in no particular direction.
If that magical doorway opened up one day I hope I’ll still hear the breeze through the trees and I hope I’ll still hear the scuttling of squirrels and the sounds of the birds especially.
