Green Lake: winter cradles spring.

Green Lake: winter, almost-spring

by Helen Holter

A Seattle Sunday in my city’s beloved park.

(Click on first picture to begin photo carousel.)

Green Lake: winter cradles spring.
Seattle Sunday at Green Lake, winter cradling spring.
Green Lake: walking to the sun.
This view reminds me of Wendell Berry's poem: "We travelers, walking to the sun, can't see/ Ahead, but looking back the very light/ That blinded us shows us the way we came/ Along which blessings now appear, risen/ As if from sightlessness to sight, and we/ By blessing brightly lit keep going toward/ That blessed light that yet to us is dark." (Green Lake, Seattle--March 3, 2013)
Green Lake: heart-filled stump.
We have a heart for this Green Lake tree, recently felled by disease. Since then, passersby decorate the stump with flowers, leaves, and poems. (Seattle, March 3, 2013)
Green Lake, a.k.a. Reflection Lake today. (March 3, 2013)
Green Lake, a.k.a. Reflection Lake today. (March 3, 2013)
A lone cloud in the crowd at Green Lake. (March 3, 2013)
A lone cloud in the crowd at Green Lake. (March 3, 2013)
Standing guard, where homesteads once stood. Green Lake-Seattle. (March 3, 2013)
Standing guard, where homesteads once stood. Green Lake-Seattle. (March 3, 2013)
Green Lake: resting place.
A century ago trollies hauled Seattleites past the edge of town to Green Lake, for weekend getaways in the country. Seriously. (Seattle--March 3, 2013)
Green Lake: girls with dog
A long, long time ago dense woods--and a sawmill ready to thin them out--stood here, at Green Lake. (Seattle, March 3, 2013)
A gaggle of birch trees, bark peeling. Green Lake. (Seattle, March 3, 2013)
A gaggle of birch trees, bark peeling. Green Lake. (Seattle, March 3, 2013)
Blooming witch hazel: a sure sign that spring's not far behind. Green Lake. (Seattle, March 3, 2013)
Blooming witch hazel: a sure sign that spring's not far behind. Green Lake. (Seattle, March 3, 2013)