Watchful Frogs

Inside the wrought iron gates of Gladys' Garden -

where dogs are not allowed

resides the watchful frog.

This place no longer is the wild and wondrous raven

Glady's Mom wrote about but it remains a paradise for all those

"working it out" on the East Side in Providence -

 

The mighty frog is as big as a tricycle

and as wise as a stately centurion elm.

The watchful frog oversees the swings and slide;
reminiscing with the remaining trees about the Barber Tree

and other dear friends gone, the many paths of life and

how they are paved with tiny moments strung together

on the fragile string of memory.

Be watchful.

Wise, if silent, teachers are everywhere.

Trees and statues are just two kinds.

They all want to share with you.

Magic Happens

The day before Hurricane Bill passed through town we went for an extra long walk.  Once things get torrential I can go days without going outside.  But I love a good pre-storm build up, and want to be out in it. I feel the momentum gathering inside me.  We left a note for who ever made the lovely Tabor Tree garden.  We left it in a zip lock bag, thumb (she did that part) tacked to the stump. 

So it wouldn't be blown or washed away. 

On Sunday, safe inside another bag we found   

 

  

How wonderous and wonderful!

How many others recognize?  

How could they not?

The flowers and the vases are changed often.  

It is such a dear and well tended place.  

This white vase is a mug that lost its handle 

and found a new and bigger purpose.

Gladys Potter and her parents are surely marveling at it.

We are.

Gladys' Garden

  The Barber Tree by Gladys' Garden did not get her wish.

They took all of her away.

All that remains is her absence.

It looks like the plastic toys all came to say goodbye.

The baby doll carriage, the basketball hoop and 

the table leg who still reaches out for her all continue to witness her.

Little people knew and miss her.

My eyes burn when I look at this touching tribute.

On either side of the ten foot high iron gates to the garden 

are two plaques.

Gladys was eight years old 118 years ago.

Did she know the Barber Tree?

 Time wears us away.

The chiseled story was hard to make out.

She used fingers to transcribed it.

This garden

was given by a

Mother in loving

memory of her

little girl who

loved this spot

and who used to

walk here with

her father when

it was a part of

an attractive 

ravine

MCMXX

***
In 2009 this spot is still loved.