Such everyday idyllic scenes are what Ukraine and its soldiers are fighting for.
The view from the park bench in Kyiv where I wrote this piece.
It’s just after lunchtime on a Sunday in Kyiv. I have a break between meetings so decide to go for a walk to enjoy what is a lovely Day outside. It’s cool (at least for this Aussie) but not cold.
I meander through the square, past the Princess Olha monument, and along the rows of decaying, rusted remnants of Russian armoured vehicles. This is my fifth visit to Ukraine. Each time I come here the vehicle hulks are more decrepit and covered in Ukrainian flags and symbols.
The square in front of Saint Michael’s Cathedral has a new sign since I was here last. The sign is quite simple and made from polished metal: it says “Freedom”.
The bells of Saint Michael’s are playing and there are small crowds of people entering and exiting out into the square. It’s Sunday, so I guess business is brisk.
I wander down the street that branches off the square. The long blue wall on my left which is covered in the faces of Ukrainian service personnel lost in the wars spawned by Russias 2014 invasion and its 2022 full scale invasion.
I walk slowly, looking at the many different faces. Some are old, some are young. Some are so young I can’t believe they are in the army. As usual, there are many floral tributes sitting at the base of the wall. Some of the flowers left by those paying their respects are emplaced in the empty brass artillery cases that are another remnant of this war.
I never fail to visit this wall when I am here. As an old soldier, I am compelled - and honoured - to pay my respects to those who gave their last full measure of devotion to their nation.
I turn left and walk into the park. Just ahead of me is the glass bridge, which is also sometimes known here as the Klitschko Bridge after the mayor of Kyiv who oversaw its construction. A Russian missile landed very close to it in the opening days of this war. It is crowded with people enjoying the sunshine and the views across the river.
The mighty Dnieper River winds its way through Kyiv below me. Thin sheets of ice slowly make their way downstream. For over 15 centuries, since a time long before there was a place called Moscow, this broad water course has been a superhighway for trade and transportation. Today, there are few boats on the river.
The park is on the high ground well above the river. This ground has been where the wealthy and the rulers of Kyiv have lived since the founding of the city. It has also served as a bastion for its defence for a thousand years.
The trees here are without their leaves, but they will soon burst into life after a warmer than usual winter. The grass is a mix of brown and green tinges.
The park is busy but not too crowded. Those I pass are a mix of older folks out for a quiet Sunday stroll, families enjoying an opportunity for the kids to run around on the grass and young people in small groups who appear to see the park as a way to get from one place to another, not somewhere to be enjoyed itself.
And there are dogs. Dogs chasing balls, on leashes and just generally enjoying the sunshine.
In the gazebo overlooking the statue of Prince Volodymyr, there is a young guy playing the piano. He is wearing a VR headset, so I am not sure whether he recording what he is playing or if he is imagining he is playing in a concert hall. It doesn’t matter. He is a terrific pianist; and as I write this he plays the melancholic*Tennessee* from the filmPearl Harbour. It is such a beautiful piece of music, hauntingly sad and appropriate at the same time.
As I sit and watch people pass by, it is hard to imagine the bitter fighting that continues to the east over the horizon. Young men and women, and many who are not so young, stand on the frontline against Russian imperialism.