^ Cbus, in all her sunny Sunday afternoon glory.
Columbus, Ohio, may be a far cry from Paris, France. And the Scioto River that rides along her western flank is no River Seine.
But when my daughter and I spend a lazy spring afternoon wandering along this luscious green waterfront landscape, I feel exactly as if I have tumbled into George Seurat's famous painting.
Follow along, why don't you, and I'll explain exactly what I mean.
^ Helpfully, this bronze buck marks the best place to stand for the money shot.
I tuck my water bottle into his shadow as I snap my photos.
The Scioto Mile, as the downtown green space is affectionately known, covers real estate on both sides of the Scioto River. To get the best view of the city, walk to the southernmost bridge and look back toward the east. Ooh, a skyline is as unique as a fingerprint of a city, and I love to get to know a place by staring at her shoulders.
^ I can just imagine wading through those cattails into the marshy bog at the edge of the river
and a part of me is tempted to go exploring.
The west bank of the river feels slightly more rough and ready. The low, wide sweep of the Center for Science and Industry stands at the top of this lawn; the wide steps hint at her Japanese architect and made a wonderful place for kids to romp in the sun. Another fun feature of the west side is that rather than a formal bulkhead, the river bank has been allowed to run free over here and that fringy bit of last year's cattails are proof of the natural aesthetic.
^ Pale green leaves are just breaking out on the trees overhead, filling the park with a sense of imminent celebration. Spring is, as they say, busting out all over.
Walkways weave along both sides of the river; we walk north along the west side to reach the other bridge in the center park. We pass an extended Mexican family happily stretched out on their colorful serapes laid across the lawn as some delicious-smelling comida cook over an open fire. We smile at one another and I am sure they must be roasting tamales. My mouth waters.
^ This building blows my mind. I love it.
The second bridge affords views of the eye-popping National Veterans Memorial and Museum. The building is circular, the interior minimalistic, and the roof covered in grass upon which one can take in a new perspective on the city skyline. Next time, I plan to go there too.
^ Hi, lady! I love your foldable boat.
As we continue across the bridge and over the waters of the Scioto River, I look down on paddle boarders, kayakers and canoeists galore, splashing about. My eyes are naturally drawn to the rustic boat launch where I stop in my tracks to watch a woman swiftly assemble her origami-style Oru Kayak. I've been dreaming of buying one of those clever crafts for my own self, and it is great fun to see her boat spring to life in mere seconds.
Now we've completed a full circuit of the main part of the park - the walkways extend further to the north and the south - but we'd had enough walking for now and we're ready to relax. Though we've neglected to bring a proper blanket, we are armed with sweatshirts enough to spread out on the lawn. My daughter wants to sit in the sunshine but I prefer a splash of shade so we choose a spot that suits us both. With our books in hand and water bottles at the ready, we settle in.
We are not the only ones with this great idea.
Ten pages in to my book - Untamed by Glennon Doyle - I glance up to find with a shock that the population of lawn sitters has increased exponentially.
And I'm struck by our shared countenance. Each one of us - at least a hundred - faces the river, watching with quiet fixation as the bikers, scooterers, and skaters whiz by, dogs and children provide endless antics, and beyond them, small boats drift up and down the river. It's a languid afternoon - not hot by summer's standards but sunny enough for an April afternoon to lull us into a gentle stupor.
I close my eyes and lie back on the grass, smiling to myself as I listen to the man behind me tell his girlfriend (I surmise) about his mom's iconic homemade macaroni and cheese. The image of George Seurat's classic painting swims before my eyes. One hundred and forty years have passed since he captured a grassy lawn along a river filled with people relaxing in the shade and the sun, as boats quietly slip by and dogs wander here and there.
But even here in postmodern Columbus, sitting on the lawn by a river is still a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
* * * * *
Read the story of my first trip since Covid to visit my daughter in Ohio, told from finish to start.
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