The first day of Spring (Monday, March 20) and we were having our usual walk in Hampton Park (which is located quite close to our home and which has a nice trail winding through it and allows you to acquire some mileage without too serious of a monotony factor).
I had my old camera along, an old digital relic from 1999 or 2000, with the shutter button held on by a bandaid. We were going to go pick up our new camera that evening. I wanted to take some last pictures with the old one as a sort of goodbye, thanks for the memories. Also, I couldn’t remember ever deliberately taking pictures on the first day of Spring. Who wants to die knowing they never did something so easily rectified? Not me.
A couple weeks ago I was talking on the phone to my brother in Pennsylvania. “A friend of mine said her favorite place — the prettiest place in the world maybe in the Spring — is Charleston.”
It was overcast. Colder than it had been. But we were having a good, pretty walk.
Not so pretty.
Every turn of the trail we took, we were treated to the sights and sounds of these soldiers(?). Who were they? Why were they there, in this public neighborhood park?
“My favorite part,” C. said, “was when they were all aiming their guns at us and yelling, ‘Bang, bang, bang!’”
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Hampton Park is the soul of what’s good in Charleston (or what could be). We live not so far from it, too, spend as much time there as time allows, and my wife is documenting it, month by month, for some sort of photography project (to be determined later).
Glad to see someone else loves it, too.
Hey Daniel, I’m interested in that photography project. Keep me up to date on that? So maybe we have seen one another in the park…
Peg