
Future Isabella, what can you tell us about the coming winter?
Will it be bitter, the bleak days echoing the quiet,
white stillness of the cold?
Or will it be mild and mellow as the oak trees bring
forth acorn tales to be told?

After offering ice cream, cotton candy and
wooden roller coaster rides for over 100 years,
the small amusement park saw its last summer season.
There was a look of cheerful hopefulness accompanied
by dilapidated distress in every building, in every
stone walk, in every exaggerated, macabre clown smile.
Defeat was reflected in our gait as we left the park at sundown.