if you see a ghost in the picture it's just my reflection. i usually go up later, near sundown, when the ghosts rise up on the other side of the glass.

i got a note asking for memories of the park for the southside weekly newspaper. i haven't sent it but i put it here where it can't be left unpublished. 

i live where the midway ends, by where the circle garden was. i've been sick at heart watching the trees being killed. i want to look away but i've been documenting the changes every day. the day before the garden was demolished i saw hummingbirds and butterflies gathering for the last nectar before leaving on migration and i imagined they sensed an ending, not only of the season but of the place. i started going to the park with my golden retriever friend years ago. every saturday we met a bird-watching group and then wandered on our way. we met a birder i live with today. wooded island was magical, like the circle garden, like any place allowed to grow in time and trees. we knew the threat was looming, but hoped the park would be saved. we wanted it to stay a sanctuary forever.