A square concrete block, about a foot-and-a-half on each side with some sort of spout or drain coming out one side, pokes out of the rapidly melting snow on one edge of this meadow in Prospect Park, and I sit down on it to watch Katie take pictures of the trees. She’s focused in on a pair of slim, smooth-barked trees that are otherwise bare but for the entirely out-of-season Christmas ornaments festooning their branches, and although they stand out a bit, the look isn’t completely inappropriate.
Once she finishes, she joins me on the block to admire some of the larger arboreal specimens, and she points out the small patches of snow that seem to serve as little accents on the darker branches.
But I’m taken by an enormous pin-oak that towers above the entrance to a tunnel, its naked branches stark and bristling against the blue sky, its thick, heavy trunk sturdy as a stone in the iced ground, its matte bark pied in green and blond and dark brown, and I can’t help but exclaim, “Goddamn, those are some good trees."
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