Windmill Park, Day 1

The reflection of the pale three-quarters moon in the still waters of Windmill Park’s lily pond called for a haiku poem:

Moon lies belly up
Blushing pink waterlilies
Look the other way

On Tuesdays the park is flooded with water and everyone comes with their dogs and kids to splash and frolic in the shallow, grassy pools. I wanted to jump in and roll around, too, but I haven’t had a recent hepatitis shot.

The pink and white waterlilies were all looking up and smiling for their photographs, and in the still water was the perfect reflection of the old windmill and the moon—until our international-yellow-shirted park worker created a tsunami with his push broom.

To prepare for the water lilies, I looked at Monet’s wonderful paintings, but his spirit refused to channel for me. Janel caught the striking reddish underbelly of the lily pads in her painting, while LeAnne captured the character of a single flower and pad.

The Rylands set up in a nice shady spot on the edge of the lily pond with their watercolors.

Pat, Christine, Mike, and Gail opted for the view of trees and flooded grassy fields. Karen got a late start with her pastel because her little dog, a terrible bully, forced her to throw his ball into the grass over and over and over and barked cuss words at her when she was slow.