A Discovery: The Story Behind The Name, Part Four

I’m continuing my series on the story behind the name, Birchtree Photography. Be sure to check out part one, part two, and part three if you missed them.
………………..

The Wood Between the Worlds, A Discovery

The path slowly opens up into a large field surrounded by lines of trees and intersected with crisscrossing trails. Signs of cows in the city park contradicts our 20th-century minds, but we know we are nearly to the pond. We quickly pass the clump of birch trees appearing like a herd of zebra, fifty trees melding into one splash of black and white. And there it is, a cool rectangle of green water, banked with high grasses on one side, packed clay on the others. My sister and I run ahead and startle a mother duck and her ducklings out of the reeds and into the water.

Old babushkas and young mothers push prams along the trails by the pond, with young children toddling beside them. Several people stand and chat in the evening’s dying light, while my sister and I scramble closer to the water’s edge, hoping to get a better look at the ducklings. We explore along the pond’s borders and notice an iron fence with a broken gate. Thick trees and large plants obscure the view beyond, and we are curious. But, it is getting late, and Dad says we should go home before it gets too dark.

Still, we see some people pass through the gate, and we want to know–what lies beyond the fence? Dad is curious, too, so he obliges and we step through the fence.

And much like a scene in a fairytale book, we walk into a seemingly strange new world. The measly pond we’d been poking at was nothing compared to the series of pools that streteched into the distance. The trees somehow seemed leafier, broader, and greener here–the trails, more refined. Wooden benches interspersed the banks with quiet visitors chatting softly in the shadows. But, upon closer inspection, we began to see signs of disrepair, neglect. The trails are rough and overgrown around the edges. The benches are missing planks, their paint long faded away. Moss and algae feast in the pond’s water, creating a tangled mass of weeds and slime. It was apparent someone had once loved this place, but the ravage of years had taken its toll.

We continued our exploration in the now fast-fading light, quickening our steps and following the paths of walkers in font of us. Each new pond and garden felt like a grand discovery, and we wondered when it would end. I think I counted four when suddenly, the sounds of bells ringing struck our ears and piqued our curiousity. We passed the last pond and rounded a corner. Immediately we beheld a half-hidden 19th-century wooden structure with blue onion-domes displacing the evening sunset. Even in the dim light of dusk, we could see this was an old orthodox church that had been a citizen of the forest for some time. But, we were too late. Shrouded old ladies were leaving and the doors were closing. Our adventure was over for the time–we would pick it up another day. Reluctantly, we turned towards home and hurried back in the darkness.

That night I discovered what discovery means. The commonplace and ordinary may hide a greater story. Little did I know that another such story was awaiting me at the end of summer.
…………………

Although this photo is NOT from the church we discovered in the Bitsevsky woods by our apartment, it does typify the architecture. I believe the photo is of Novodevichy Convent, and you can see one of the Seven Sisters–neo-gothic buildings commissioned by Stalin–(in this case, Moscow State University) in the background. It’s also one of my favorite photos from Russia, but I don’t know who took it.

And this photo was taken our first winter in Russia at a “dom otdykha” (house of rest, aka, a sanatorium–where folks used to go for vacation). We’re (obviously) the cheerful bundles sitting on the snow-covered bench.