City Park - New Orleans

Just off City Park Avenue and Carrollton Avenue in New Orleans, I meander past Historic Oak Grove, the never-ending shotgun-style homes and small 1970's duplexes with white picket fences. Brief opportunities for craft brews make themselves known. Not feeling uppers or downers, I press onward toward City Park, one of America’s oldest urban parks, established in 1854. A red and white glass lighthouse sparkles in the afternoon sunshine at the park’s front entrance with a small red flag atop the beacon waving vigorously in the wild wind. The wind sends chills down my spine as I catch a glimpse of a black pirate ship floating in the stretching water surrounded by sidewalks on all sides winding beyond sight, with no inkling how far the preserved park pours over this New Orleans territory. There are so many park benches along the route that I cannot decide which one to make home. Each one is strong and hard, made of cold concrete, so I select one to sit on in the rising sun near the front entrance overlooking the Bayou Metairie.

Morning Call

Two silver steel swans about 5 feet in height meet my hazy gaze, and I wonder if I'm dreaming. They float on pallets in the middle of the lake. The wind gently pushes them into one another as if allowing them a periodic kiss. I start to wonder if he will find me on this bench as I deny my growling stomach. My hunger, along with the cold, hard bench, are the solid structures that keep me in this realm. Otherwise, I am off in a land of mystifying oak trees and cascading light throughout the park. Cyclists, dog walkers, and other pedestrians stroll by sipping on Morning Call coffee, rattling off gumbo recipes to one another. Single runners trot by in light sweaters without headphones. I suppose they are plugged in.

The pebbled stone path is canopied by large live oaks with squirrels chasing each other around the trunks, resurrection fern rampantly grows around the oaks, draping Spanish moss billows around their branches, and an understory of cattails and palm bushes lies underneath. The park contains the oldest grove of mature live oak trees in the world, including the infamous Anseman and McDonogh Oaks, which are 750 to 900 years old. The grass is overly green with some flooded areas from recent storms. A happy red train circles the tracks, cruising by every 30 minutes, transporting travelers (for $4.00 per ride) beyond the Bayou Metairie at the park’s front entrance, past the New Orleans Museum of Art, and around the botanical gardens, Storyland, and Carousel Gardens Amusement Park.

Acres of City Park Activities

Outdoor and indoor historical and modern activities and preserved natural landscapes combine into a total of 1,300 acres that make up City Park.

Beyond my small seated self, City Park features: Couturie Forest, Scout Island, Big and Little Lakes, Popp Fountain, NOPD Horse Stable, festival grounds, restaurants, playgrounds, soccer grounds, hiking and biking trails, fishing areas, boat rentals, a dog park, a disc golf course, a tennis center, a golf course, a couple farms, stadiums, and numerous museums and gardens with sidewalks, nature trails, and bridges connecting to each part of this magical park. Live oak, magnolia, bald cypress, and sweet gum extend beyond my comprehension, so in the moment, I can only focus on my cold, hard bench.

Birds chirp loudly, and dogs bark proudly in the distance. Aside from these animal noises, the park is quiet and still with the occasional passersby. A dripping waterfall rushes into the lake, and I wonder how the swans got there. Almost lost in thought, he appears out of the corner of my eye, and a rush of excitement and joy sweep over me. I have not seen him in days, and he is a familiar picture of chivalry, hope, and wonder to which I succumb in a warm embrace and a kiss that lasts longer than that of the swans, but still not long enough. With so many ways to get lost at City Park, we venture into the new city together with no cares or concerns for the world we left behind.

“The wonder is that we can see these trees and not wonder more.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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