With all the rain we've had, the park is looking lush.
Boot for scale. This must have been an oak or a tuliptree, something enormous and ancient, anyway.
Paper birch reveals its code.
"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,/And what I assume you shall assume,/For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.//I loafe and invite my soul,/I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass."