(The previous portion of the walk: Bolivar the Great)
A view that makes this odd little park look good.
After you’ve contemplated the great General Bolivar and walked the 360 degree circuit around the statue, meander through what I consider the funny little park that surrounds it. When it comes to analyzing or critiquing gardens and plantings in mixed company (gardeners and non-gardeners) I try to restrain myself. I’m pretty sure Virginia Avenue walkers don’t want to hear my yammering about landscaping. Maybe garden geeks (like me) who don’t tire of plant talk are interested, but I’m sure the rest want to continue the walk. I’ll keep my horticultural point brief.
Look: I like the statue, I like the pedestal, I even like the odd polygon pond next to it. Taken as a whole, however, this little park (called Triangle Park on maps, it should be called Bolivar Park except he already has way too many things named after him in the Western Hemisphere, plus the park isn’t worthy of his name) is not attractive. It doesn’t live up to almost all the other landscaping and green spaces on Virginia. The plantings are untended, neglected really, except for some fresh mulch thrown on in spring. The grass gets cut sporadically. Marble paving stones around the statue are cracked and broken. Ironic this parklet is the Interior Department’s front yard. An agency responsible for, among other things, the care of our national parks and resources, should make this one look better.
Is this pretty? A suitable backdrop to the Great Liberator Bolivar? I think not.
Glad to get that off my chest.
Bolivar faces the south side of Virginia Avenue where the the Organization of American States Headquarters’s homely little sister, the OAS Annex, sits. Since this building fronts Constitution Avenue, you see its modest but attractive backside from Virginia. Not half as grand as the main OAS building, I like that it looks so Latin, a villa with a red tile roof, a fountain on a raised, second floor porch, and decorative tops capping ornamental cornices. I can imagine being the guest of some influential local rich person in this, his grand home somewhere in Central America. His butler would lead me to the terrace and serve wine, avocados, cheese and fruit on the balcony while I await my host, the powerful and wealthy Don Amarando Buenaventura Raymundo de los Severino. Ray, as his friends call him, is about to offer me a handsome stipend and a small villa of my own to be his writer in residence, creating stories and poems to delight his family and guests. I think I’ll accept.
Would you like some tequila, sir, while you await El Jefe?
Take a look at the trees on this block. Two massive oaks, my favorites on the whole street, flank the OAS Annex. The one on the right (the west facing side) is almost half as wide or more as the building itself. The broad spreading branches of that tree have seen (and survived) their share of history. I have wanted to sit on the ground under its shade though I suspect I would not be permitted, even though no fence surrounds the yard. Venerable and notable, these ancient trees look as if they could be sentient, self-aware and able to communicate with each other like in ancient myths and modern movies. At the western end of the south side of the block sits a group of stocky old oaks. Not as broadly massive as the flanking oaks, they too feel aged and wise. I wonder, did I hear a woody whisper just now?
Perfect for sitting under on a hot summer's day
Willow oaks line the north side of the street. You can recognize them by their slender, willowy leaves. One of those great trees sits toward the western end of this block along the sidewalk on the northern (odd little park) side of the street. What I love are the massive roots, huge hunks of oaken weightiness, spilling out on the sidewalk and curb around it. You can see many examples of thick, old roots along Virginia; this is one of the first. I hope the city’s tree tenders leave it for a good long time. I worry if it breaks out of its bounds too much, doesn’t mind it’s business in its own space, doesn’t toe the line, it might get uprooted and replaced by some sleek young whipper-snapper of a tree with youthful grace but none of these splendid specimens’ gravitas.
Rooting for trees: Hip, Hip, Hoorah!
Next: Among the Liberators: Inside the Department of the Interior
