I love it when slackliners come to practice at Salsbury Park.
The apartment building that edges the east end of Salsbury Park is covered in a pebbledash stucco. The bumps and crevices apparently give enough grip for a squirrel to go climbing straight up and down. I sat on the bench in the glorious winter sunshine for quite some time fascinated as this clever animal played with gravity. I think she was concerned about something on the ground, a cat perhaps; but eventually she climbed down and got on with her day.
This morning we went out for breakfast, to the Skylight which is still our favourite. On the way home we stopped for a while in the Park, sitting at the bench surrounded by several trees. The weather was superb — cool, with bright sun and a clear blue sky, with no need for a jacket yet.
We spent some time collecting acorns for the family of squirrels that visits our patio each day, and then we just sat back and relaxed. We watched the silent but steady fall of small leaves; some fell down directly, others spun in a tight spiral, seemingly delaying the inevitable, while yet others glided away from a straight path down, landing as migrants across the lawn. The crows, squirrels and jays kept their distance.
Finally we made friends with a Sirail hound called Stripe. He is a pal of the local three-legged Lucky but is a great deal more affable. A beautiful dog apparently saved from the slums of Bangladesh.
The tiny Salsbury Park is a wonderful place to interact with neighbours of all kinds.
The extraordinary canopy of copper and gold and light brown leaves that has been such a feature of the Park for the last few weeks has entirely tumbled to the ground. For a day or so it was impossible to find the path under the deep shag of the fallen leaves. But then the Parks folks came and efficiently swept them all up into piles.
Today, there are just the final hangers on, delaying that final drop for as long as they can.
Previous Salsbury Park ruminations.