Early this morning, as planned, I visited Inwood Hill Park, which is located adjacent to the Harlem River at the northernmost tip of Manhattan. Its well-manicured cousin, Central Park, which also serves as the de facto baseline for the city, received about 21 inches from Friday's massive Nor'easter. Wandering through snow that was considerably high, I wouldn't be surprised if the snow total at IHP was close to that of Central Park.
It was a snowy winter wonderland in IHP. Of the several times that I've visited it during the winter months over these past two years, I can't recall it ever being so captivating. It was something to see. Walking through the park's forest (the last remaining natural forest on Manhattan island), I couldn't help but be mindful of the fact that - yep - THIS is NYC too. But honestly, who would ever imagine that these images were taken here. There are a couple of people, whom I thought about as I walked through the white forest. I know they would have enjoyed this. A couple of them are relatively new to the city. I think it would have been so cool to have shared this with them.
I saw robins and think I might have spotted a bluebird, but am not sure. It moved so quickly. A few times, I heard the pecking of bark in the distance. I'm not sure if woodpeckers inhabit the park during the winter. It was a great opportunity to capture these colorful, chirping aviators against the backdrop of the white snow, but I don't yet have a telephoto lens for such skillful photography. I carried my 10-24mm super-wide angle lens and the 50mm, but except for only a few moments used the 10-24mm the entire time.
There were people too. Just a few, however, whom I came across in the park at this early hour of the day. Some were walking their dogs; some were jogging; while others were simply exploring enjoying this wintery treat, but few I imagine lingered around the forest like I did. The forest is big enough to get lost in even when one is paying attention. And on a morning like this when few people were out, one could easily get the impression that this beautiful landscape was for him or herself to enjoy alone.
This morning in the uppermost corner of Manhattan, where Father Winter rested in his snow-capped, crystallized home, I was wandering, celebrating with its wild, untamed fauns.
