Follow the Yellow Brick Road
First Impressions of Observatory Park
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9/9/25 - Midday
“You have arrived at your destination,” declared my Apple Maps in a British accent. I slowed my car and pulled into a wide open parking spot along the border of Observatory Park. I was relieved that the park wasn’t busy since I’m a notoriously terrible parallel parker and usually try to avoid it at all costs. As I stepped out of my car, I briefly noted the one hour parking sign sticking haphazardly out of the ground. I didn’t pay much attention to the sign at first, but when I finally left the park, I realized that I had lost track of time and overstayed my welcome. Luckily, I didn’t get a ticket, but it’s safe to say I will be jogging to the park next time!
When I stepped out of my car, the first thing I noticed was a beautiful patch of yellow flowers behind the public restrooms. Despite their unfortunate location, I couldn’t help but walk over and examine the flowers more closely. After all, yellow is my favorite color. I crouched down and was amazed to see how much life surrounded the flowers. Bees lazily swooped around the golden petals and small ants scurried up their stems.
I even saw an interesting mushroom nestled in the grass near the flowers!
Observing this miniscule scene reminded me instantly of the passage, Walking, by Linda Hogan, a prominent writer and professor in the late 1900s. In this passage, Hogan describes the connection she feels to her Chickasaw ancestors through close observation of nature. Hogan begins the passage by discussing the life of a single yellow flower and notes how “In this one plant, in one summer season, a drama of need and survival took place. Hungers were filled. Insects coupled. There was escape, exhaustion, and death. Lives touched down a moment and were gone.” Hogan captures the constant flow of nature and the fleeting moments that are often overlooked, but ultimately quite beautiful. Thinking about this passage made me feel grounded and present in the moment. It seemed as though simply being still and observing a square foot of land was enough for me to connect me to a greater natural presence.
As I moved on from the patch of flowers, other yellow objects continued to catch my eye. On a whim, I decided to follow the color yellow throughout the park to see where I ended up.
I soon noticed a plastic yellow swing on the playground and went over to take a look. A few families with young children mingled. They seemed open and at peace, as if they weren't in a rush. So often, people focus on the speed at which they move through life. However, when in the presence of nature, I believe people are inspired by of the natural flow of the outdoors.
"On a whim, I decided to follow the color yellow throughout the park to see where I ended up."
I sat near the playground at an old picnic table surrounded by large trees. Looking up at the sky through the branches, I was able to appreciate the vastness of these trees. I felt strangely protected by them. They blocked out the whirring of cars driving by and I was able to focus on more subtle noises. I closed my eyes and noticed the sound of early autumn leaves clattering across the concrete. The leaves that were still in the trees rustled as a slight breeze danced through them.
The next yellow object I came across was this fire hydrant. It led me to a street that runs right down the middle of the park. I crossed and started to explore the other side. At long last, I was able to see the Chamberlin Observatory that gave this park its name. The building itself was beautiful and made of vibrant red brick. It contrasted with the lush, green foliage perfectly. I didn't feel as though this human-made structure was out of place in the park. In fact, it felt like it belonged there, nestled in among the vegetation. How could this be? Shouldn't parks be safe havens for pure nature? Why does a building fit in here?
The passage, Nature, by Louis Owens helped give me perspective on my complicated feelings. According to Owens, humans and nature aren't mutually exclusive. Rather, they can coexist in the right circumstances. A human presence in nature isn't inherently bad, as long as responsibility is taken on our part. As I continue to get to know this park, I aim to learn more about the history of this observatory so that I can determine whether or not the observatory is an example of peaceful coexistence.
Unfortunately, the observatory was locked.
After spending time walking the perimeter of the observatory, I continued my quest for yellow objects. I soon found two vibrant yellow flowers near the community garden. One flower was blooming on the inside of the garden fence, and the other on the outside. Both were equally beautiful and thriving.
To me, this illustrated the idea that humans and nature can live in synchrony. When done in a mindful manner, humans can constructively contribute to the outdoors. I also saw a yellow and white maintenance truck that further illuminated the role that humans play in taking care of nature.
I followed this yellow leaf past the tennis courts and began to head back in the direction of my car. I quietly noticed the spiked edges of the leaf. I admired the subtle speckles on its surface that were interrupted by several jagged holes. I felt calmer than I had when I arrived at the park. Who knew that following the color yellow could lead to so many discoveries? My time outside helped me briefly get away from the stress of my morning. However, beneath the calm, I felt a stream of curiosity bubbling up.
I had so many questions that I was dying to learn the answers to. What kind of trees were those? What is the name of that mushroom? What is the history of the Chamberlin Observatory? What kinds of people often frequent the park? How does the community garden work? How is the park maintenance funded? Over the next 10 weeks, I look forward to answering some of these questions. I have no doubt that new passions and lines of questioning will spring from each visit to Observatory Park, and I am excited to explore them all.
"Who knew that following the color yellow could lead to so many discoveries?"
Gallery
My first look at the park.
A very hungry squirrel!
I found this shard of mirror outside of the Chamberlin Observatory. Although human-made and clearly not meant to be laying on the ground, I enjoyed the fact that the mirror reflected the leaves from the trees above. It felt meaningful, as if implying that humans are only able to reflect a fraction of the natural world, and there is much more to nature than meets the eye.
This leaf was almost as big as my hand!
Some leaves were already beginning to turn as autumn approaches.
These tire tracks implied that a lawnmower was likely run over this patch of grass. It is clear that humans are taking care of Observatory Park. As mentioned in Nature by Louis Owens, it is important that we take responsibility for the changes we make to the planet.
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