Jake Haggmark
The First Snowfall
It’s late, but you don’t need to be anywhere. You had a good evening catching up with old friends. Some you haven’t seen in years. Thoughts of your childhood race through your head. Times were good, you think as you unlock your bike. Waving goodbye to the few left at the bar, you turn on your headlight and start pedaling.
Without much thought, you decide to take the long way home. It’s nice out, a few clouds, but not too cold. A ride through the old neighborhood will perfectly cap off the night. Besides, you probably didn’t need those last few beers. This was, or still is, your favorite park. It stayed with you as you grew up, slowly adapting to your adult lifestyle. Tee ball fields and leaf catching made way for beer league kickball and Sunday morning yoga. The farmers market supplies most of your vegetables, not to mention the local honey. How would you survive without this park?
As you start to sweat a little, the wind begins to pick up disturbing the quiet night. The surreal calm of the park still somehow seems to overpower the wind and rustling branches. Near the center of the park, next to the visitors center, you decide to take a break and sit next to the reflecting pond. This is where you made your first paper sailboat.
You look across the field to the Japanese Pavilion where summer camp met everyday. But wait! It’s gone. How could they remove such an important park structure? Was it damaged in a storm? How long has it been gone? As you stomp over to the foundation that remains, you think of the rest of the park. Are the other pavilions okay? Were they removed too? Maybe it was taken for repairs and reconstruction. Standing over an empty post hole in the concrete, the wind picks up again. It’s getting cold. Why would the pavillion be removed right before winter. Soon they all will be decorated with holiday lights.
Without much thought, you decide to take the long way home. It’s nice out, a few clouds, but not too cold. A ride through the old neighborhood will perfectly cap off the night. Besides, you probably didn’t need those last few beers. This was, or still is, your favorite park. It stayed with you as you grew up, slowly adapting to your adult lifestyle. Tee ball fields and leaf catching made way for beer league kickball and Sunday morning yoga. The farmers market supplies most of your vegetables, not to mention the local honey. How would you survive without this park?
As you start to sweat a little, the wind begins to pick up disturbing the quiet night. The surreal calm of the park still somehow seems to overpower the wind and rustling branches. Near the center of the park, next to the visitors center, you decide to take a break and sit next to the reflecting pond. This is where you made your first paper sailboat.
You look across the field to the Japanese Pavilion where summer camp met everyday. But wait! It’s gone. How could they remove such an important park structure? Was it damaged in a storm? How long has it been gone? As you stomp over to the foundation that remains, you think of the rest of the park. Are the other pavilions okay? Were they removed too? Maybe it was taken for repairs and reconstruction. Standing over an empty post hole in the concrete, the wind picks up again. It’s getting cold. Why would the pavillion be removed right before winter. Soon they all will be decorated with holiday lights.
Crack!, giggle giggle giggle
You hear a noise over in the bush. “Hello? Is someone there?” The wind blows again and a snowflake lands between your eyes. Maybe it’s time to go home. The alderman may know the story. You can figure it out tomorrow.
Snap, thump thump thump
Hey! Someone has to be over there. You take a step forward. Should you go closer? It’s late, dark, cold, and kind of scary over there. It’s near the bike path though. Maybe someone without a light rode off the path. Getting closer, the sounds become more clear. Is that singing?
You hear a noise over in the bush. “Hello? Is someone there?” The wind blows again and a snowflake lands between your eyes. Maybe it’s time to go home. The alderman may know the story. You can figure it out tomorrow.
Snap, thump thump thump
Hey! Someone has to be over there. You take a step forward. Should you go closer? It’s late, dark, cold, and kind of scary over there. It’s near the bike path though. Maybe someone without a light rode off the path. Getting closer, the sounds become more clear. Is that singing?
Pushing through some brush, you see a Cypress Pavilion. No that can’t be, the Cypress Pavilions are on the other side of the park. And, where is the second Cypress, why would one be moved and not the other? The two were always like brothers.
Thud-ump, dada skeee!
Startled, you whirl around. Japanese Pavilion, how did you get over here? Cypress Two? Humbolt North? South? Old Playground? Old Carriage?
Pid-it pid-at pid-it pid-at pid-it pid-at
Lily Pond! The gang’s all here. But, wh-.. How?
Fump, fa-ump, crack, fah-ump
Old Stone Pavilion comes staggering to the front. With a couple of stomps with his -- one of his right feet, the other pavilions settle down and gather together. You haven’t made a move since the Japanese Pavilion stepped around you. Far too stunned to speak, you decide to take a step forward. You notice a light dusting of snow has accumulated across the field and a top the old patriarch. The wind has died down, and you can see your breath. Not knowing why, you take a couple more steps, quietly getting closer to the group.
SNAP!
This field is littered with sticks and leaves from the surrounding oak trees. You know that. Your annual Turkey Bowl always starts with a quick field de-sticking.
A few pavilions turn to face you alone in the middle of the field, the others still focused on Old Stone Pavilion. With a quick shudder he shakes the dusting of white fluffy snow from his roof. Then rearing up on his hind legs starts a motion that all the others mimic. Waving his multiple arms(?) legs(?) columns(?) posts(?) in the air, Old Stone Pavilion directs a concert like motion of pavilion legs sweeping through the sky.
Ca-chunk! Ca-chunk! Ca-chunkkk!
With three massive pounds on the ground, Old Stone Pavilion sends shockwaves across the field and into the other pavilions. Those who have been looking back at you are joined by the others, and in a seamless choreographed motion, all the pavillions begin striding toward you. Left, left, left, right, right, right. The snow is still falling. The sweat on your back is nearly frozen, and your long, calm breaths send a cloud in front of your eyes. You think, I wonder if I left my bike lights on?
Slowly the group arcs around you, with Cypress North and Cypress South at either end. Pavillion legs are waving and clapping all around you. The arc of pavillions merges to a full circle, with you at the center and Cypress North and South together again.
Skeet, shh, skooo, bump click bump
This field is littered with sticks and leaves from the surrounding oak trees. You know that. Your annual Turkey Bowl always starts with a quick field de-sticking.
A few pavilions turn to face you alone in the middle of the field, the others still focused on Old Stone Pavilion. With a quick shudder he shakes the dusting of white fluffy snow from his roof. Then rearing up on his hind legs starts a motion that all the others mimic. Waving his multiple arms(?) legs(?) columns(?) posts(?) in the air, Old Stone Pavilion directs a concert like motion of pavilion legs sweeping through the sky.
Ca-chunk! Ca-chunk! Ca-chunkkk!
With three massive pounds on the ground, Old Stone Pavilion sends shockwaves across the field and into the other pavilions. Those who have been looking back at you are joined by the others, and in a seamless choreographed motion, all the pavillions begin striding toward you. Left, left, left, right, right, right. The snow is still falling. The sweat on your back is nearly frozen, and your long, calm breaths send a cloud in front of your eyes. You think, I wonder if I left my bike lights on?
Slowly the group arcs around you, with Cypress North and Cypress South at either end. Pavillion legs are waving and clapping all around you. The arc of pavillions merges to a full circle, with you at the center and Cypress North and South together again.
Skeet, shh, skooo, bump click bump
You could run, but it’s too risky. The Old Carriage Pavilion has 28 legs, there’s no way to get through when those things are all moving. It’s not scary here though, these majestic old beasts move gracefully around you.
Chhchh tsss chhshh tuu zenc
You notice Old Stone Pavilion’s thatched roof, no, hair bouncing as he hums and dances in sync with the other structures, guiding them through a choreographed procession. The circle begins to disperse around you to a chaotic but controlled array.
Pida-pat-pida-pat
There’s a nudge on your shoulder, looking back with only a twist of your neck you see Lily Pond leaning over. Another light push, as if she doesn’t want you to fall, but needs you to move forward, she gets your feet moving.
Shuffle shuffle, tip-kack
You can’t stop, following Lily Pond and the others’ lead, you join the festivities. Swaying and waddling around you wave your arms in the air, without bending your elbows, trying to mimic the smooth yet rigid pavillion motions.
Swooosh, stick stick stick
As you move about, the pavilions begin tip toeing their way out of the field. One by one until you’re the only one left, dancing alone under a small oak tree. The snow has stopped falling, and you’re sweating again. Look at all these footprints, you think, looking across the now empty field. The wind blows a little again, cooling your back, you better go home now.
Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
Startled, you awake to see 8:35 on the clock. You must have hit snooze a few times. What time did you get home? You didn’t have that many beers did you? Either way you need to go to work. The roads are clear and the sun is shining, you can still ride to work. There are leaves stuck in your breaks and mud on your handle bars. Did you fall? Your body isn’t sore. Then you remember riding through the park last night and what a weird dream you woke to.
zzrmm-zzrrmm
Pedaling quickly, the sound seems to remind you of something, that dream… it seems so real. You can be late today, you probably already hit 40 for the week. A quick turn sends you straight to the park. Entering, you pass by the Old Carriage Pavilion, this is silly, but you keep pedaling. There’s Lily Pond.
Chhchh tsss chhshh tuu zenc
You notice Old Stone Pavilion’s thatched roof, no, hair bouncing as he hums and dances in sync with the other structures, guiding them through a choreographed procession. The circle begins to disperse around you to a chaotic but controlled array.
Pida-pat-pida-pat
There’s a nudge on your shoulder, looking back with only a twist of your neck you see Lily Pond leaning over. Another light push, as if she doesn’t want you to fall, but needs you to move forward, she gets your feet moving.
Shuffle shuffle, tip-kack
You can’t stop, following Lily Pond and the others’ lead, you join the festivities. Swaying and waddling around you wave your arms in the air, without bending your elbows, trying to mimic the smooth yet rigid pavillion motions.
Swooosh, stick stick stick
As you move about, the pavilions begin tip toeing their way out of the field. One by one until you’re the only one left, dancing alone under a small oak tree. The snow has stopped falling, and you’re sweating again. Look at all these footprints, you think, looking across the now empty field. The wind blows a little again, cooling your back, you better go home now.
Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
Startled, you awake to see 8:35 on the clock. You must have hit snooze a few times. What time did you get home? You didn’t have that many beers did you? Either way you need to go to work. The roads are clear and the sun is shining, you can still ride to work. There are leaves stuck in your breaks and mud on your handle bars. Did you fall? Your body isn’t sore. Then you remember riding through the park last night and what a weird dream you woke to.
zzrmm-zzrrmm
Pedaling quickly, the sound seems to remind you of something, that dream… it seems so real. You can be late today, you probably already hit 40 for the week. A quick turn sends you straight to the park. Entering, you pass by the Old Carriage Pavilion, this is silly, but you keep pedaling. There’s Lily Pond.
Giggle Giggle
Was that-? No. Maybe someone is walking a dog behind you. You pull up to the Japanese Pavilion, you remember sitting by the reflecting pond. There are footsteps leading to bike tracks, and another path off to the bushes. You stop at the edge of the pavilion’s concrete floor and look down where the empty post hole was. Now comfortably bracing one of Japanese Pavilion’s legs.
Tap-Tap!
You feel a small push and take a step out of the pavilion, toward the field from last night. Was that-? No one else is around. After a quick scan around, you head for the field. Keeping your arms and legs as straight as you can you gracefully hop back through your own footsteps, next to a trail of square footprints, anxiously anticipating next year’s first snow fall.
Was that-? No. Maybe someone is walking a dog behind you. You pull up to the Japanese Pavilion, you remember sitting by the reflecting pond. There are footsteps leading to bike tracks, and another path off to the bushes. You stop at the edge of the pavilion’s concrete floor and look down where the empty post hole was. Now comfortably bracing one of Japanese Pavilion’s legs.
Tap-Tap!
You feel a small push and take a step out of the pavilion, toward the field from last night. Was that-? No one else is around. After a quick scan around, you head for the field. Keeping your arms and legs as straight as you can you gracefully hop back through your own footsteps, next to a trail of square footprints, anxiously anticipating next year’s first snow fall.