Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. As long as parks are appreciated and beauty on some level is found within them, I assume they can withstand economic hard times. I’m not sure I could say the same when natural resources and land become extremely scarce.
Sometimes my appreciation for a park isn’t immediate. Crater Lake, after the cold numbed me and the snow fell, grew on me. I appreciated the Badlands immediately. Redwood is slowly but surely growing on me, too. But it’s the smaller urban parks that take me the most time.
Hiller Park in McKinleyville is near my home. I walk through it nearly daily. It features a dog park full of dug-out gopher holes, baseball fields, and a sometimes rancid smelling set of water treatment ponds. Sounds like paradise, right?!
This park is neither exotic, overly scenic, nor free of invasive species, but I have to say, it’s growing on me. I’d attribute this growing love to toting my camera and dog around so much in it. It seems to me that the more you spend time in a place, the more you like it. In fact, that probably could be said about many things; the more time, the better the appreciation.
Here is my photographic appreciation for Hiller Park:
A West Coast Lady [thanks Katie!] enjoying the January sunshine.
An American Robin gobbling a worm near a treatment pond.
A Chestnut-backed Chickadee hunting for pine seeds.
A female Northern Shoveler getting ready for a dip in a treatment pond.
Goats and geese are fenced in and trim the grass around the treatment ponds.
Enjoying the view.
There are various forms of the Canada goose tribes inside the fence. Most have broken wings, like this fellow, who might be a Aleutian goose. [Supposedly, the white band has to be 10mm wide. I never have a ruler on me!]
The ravens are skiddish.
Sunbeams and Sitkas.
‘Old Man’s Beard’ looks lacy in the canopy.
Mass Commute of Mallards
An Anna’s Hummingbird in December. I saw my first hummer at my feeder today [1.9.2012].
A cold shoulder from a Red-shouldered Hawk.
Some ninja needs to come knock the camera out of my hands when I go for sunbeams again–they’re going to eat up half my hard drive!
Mad River View. I believe that is Pampas grass to the left. An invasive pain in the neck.
Same view at night. I think that’s Venus.
A sunset on the riverbank
That large log has long washed out to sea by now.
A drying sandbar under a fiery sky
A Cormorant enjoying a dip in the river.
Back up on the trails.
Banana slugs cross over the trails often. They don’t withstand feet well. That hole you see is where the slug exchanges gases [breathes] and its feces also exit through that same hole. Rough life.
To sum up this overwhelming bombardment of pixels; the land surrounding the treatment ponds could have remained unaltered forest, or they could have been developed, but instead they serve as one of the rare accessible green spaces. While maybe the wildlife would have preferred untouched land, this little urban park offers something for everyone; little leaguers to dog park goers. And while many may not consciously appreciate the park on the same level as others, I’m sure they have at least one fond memory within its boundaries. Perhaps enough fond memories are what it takes to keep parks large and small off closure lists!