The rustic version of a city in nature

Turn right for the rustic experience; go straight or turn left for the manicured park experience. Today, I turned right. A slice of unmanaged (ish) nature for a rustic feel, connected to the wider network of Park Connectors; Tampines Eco Green.

I stand at the threshold of a tunnel to another place. Dirt path, tall vegetation on each side, crowns reaching across the gap to form a canopy. But at the entrance lay warnings. No smoking. No lighting provided in this nature area. Signs for urbanised people who may have been disconnected from nature. A few steps in, further signs to get people to reconnect. "Nature does not recycle your rubbish." "Silence is golden." Trail manners reminder. The Parks & Trees Act 2005 is in force. But not to worry, there's a Helpline.

This is a secondary forest with freshwater ponds and marshes. The kind that grew back on its own after the land was cleared in the 1980s and then left alone for decades1. When it finally opened as a park in 2011, they kept it that way. Minimal intervention, dead trees left standing, recycled materials for benches.

A short distance away, shadows and diffused light through the leaves bring the pace and mood down, not unlike warm lamps in our homes that take away the harshness of bright overhead fixtures. Nature welcomes with its tunes. Birds, insects, ringing and chirping. A new rhythm takes over. The man in the distance is doing a brisk walk but I choose a slower pace to match the insects.

My feet grind on the dirt path. A mix of sand and fine stones. Pale brown. Dry. Hard. The year-end monsoon that used to pound the ground into mushy paste hasn't sent rain down over the last couple of days. I've been waiting for it. I used to think of it as the tropical version of winter, imagining it as melted snow coming down to ground in the form of rain, justifying another mug of warm beverage. But that pattern has been less predictable. Instead there are hot dry days. Inside this patch of green on this morning though, it's at least cool and not sticky humid.

When the canopy breaks, the blue sky reveals itself in the far distance. An aeroplane leaves behind a scar of white clouds as it streaks across the scene. There are no other puffy white clouds. None like what I've been finding in my son's story books lately.

I can tell the sun is starting to rise as the shadows and light change intensity through the gaps in the trees. At times it hits a specific tree in a specific way, cinematic almost, shining a spotlight on the twist and turns of branches, the curves that fan out, rising beyond the shorter plants, reaching out in search of sustenance in the sky. Some of these are snags. Dead trees they've kept standing, turned into apartments for hole-nesting birds. The sun hovers just above the tree line in the distance. A yellow yolk fully emerged from a green blanket, its rays touching the groundscape below.

Then I see net structures at the end of a small clearing, standing like a roughly built kids' fort. Bird hides, woven from natural materials. Then vertical structures that could not have been nature's doing. The illusion is showing itself.

If you closed your eyes, didn't know better, and believed me if I told you there was a river nearby, you would hear the roaring sounds of crashing water. Instead, it's vehicles flowing through Tampines Expressway, the MRT hurling itself to its next stop at great velocity. Not far ahead, the angularity of HDB blocks peek through the organic shapes in the park. At moments, looking right brings you to the park and looking left reminds you of the city that sits right outside.

A concrete shelter presents itself. Stools for resting, a clearly marked AED for emergencies, a no-smoking sign. Urban provisions for man. Roof planting worn like a camouflage hat and logs as stools attempt to make it more suited to the place. A concrete platform invites bird-watchers, jutting out into the marshland, aged by time and weather.

Then as the path continues, bringing me to the other end of the loop, the natural scene returns. Curtains drawn tightly again and the birds sing louder. The stage commands me to return to its presence. Wild fowls forage for food in groups. A turtle crawls out of the pond at its own pace. The light reflecting off the pond and the lilies floating on it invite pause. I pause.

The walk home begins. The sun is getting hotter. A pair of concrete tracks on the floor, covered by leaves and dirt but still visible on the ground, offer a mystery to be solved2. What was here before this became a park? In the distance, right at the end of my exit portal, is a machine and a man driving it. He drives it slowly and carefully. A grass cutter. The green rustic world ends exactly there.