“Fall”ing in love with the Park

My name is Geneva and I am your guest blogger today! I started working at the Park a month ago as the new Major Gifts and Planned Giving Officer but have spent much of my last 12 years, in the city, enjoying all the Park has to offer. I have been pleasantly surprised, over the last month, at all the things I don’t know about the Park or never slowed long enough to notice.

Traditionally I am one of those people who laments the fact that New Orleans only has one season…I like to call it GREEN. Spending every day in the Park has opened my eyes to a whole new world and I am very happy to say that, while there is still a LOT of green in the Park this time of year, there are also yellows, reds, oranges and browns of all shades. Throughout the day, as the light changes, the colors often take my breath away as I go about my daily work.

Some of the trees to look for are Crape myrtles, Ginkgo, Japanese maples, and Cypress trees. They can be found throughout the Park, on the golf course and in the Botanical Garden. For a quick walk through Fall take a stroll through the Botanical Garden or walk the Roosevelt Mall.

The trees that do change color are each unique and quite fascinating. Ginkgo, also spelled gingko and also known as the maidenhair tree, is a unique species of tree with no close living relatives. The ginkgo is a living fossil, recognizably similar to fossils dating back 270 million years.

Here is a poem about Fall and its beautiful changing colors. I hope to see you wandering the Park soon, ‘Fall’ ing in love with it again!

A Crown of Autumn Leaves


For Mabon (fall equinox), Sept. 21

Our voices press

from us

and twine

around the year's

fermenting wine

Yellow fall roars

Over the ground.

Loud, in the leafy sun that pours

Liquid through doors,

Yellow, the leaves twist down

as the winding

of the vine

pulls our curling


Glowing in wind and change,

The orange leaf tells

How one more season will alter and range,

Working the strange

Colors of clamor and bells

In the winding

of the vine

our voices press out

from us

to twine


When autumn gathers, the tree

That the leaves sang

Reddens dark slowly, then, suddenly free,

Turns like a key,

Opening air where they hang

and the winding

of the vine

makes our voices

turn and wind

with the year’s

fermented wine

One of the hanging leaves,

Deeply maroon,

Tightens its final hold, receives,

Finally weaves

Through, and is covered soon

in the winding

of the vine—

Holding past summer's hold,

Open and strong,

One of the leaves in the crown is gold,

Set in the cold

Where the old seasons belong.

Here is my crown

Of winding vine,

Of leaves that dropped,

That fingers twined,

another crown

to yield and shine

with a year’s

fermented wine.


Geneva Longlois-Marney

Major Gifts and Planned Giving