In New Orleans’ Audubon Park, the old live oaks measure time in centuries, not seasons.

Some have stood since before France built her outpost in the bayou and New Orleans became the city we know today. Their great limbs stretch across the sky while Spanish moss hangs like worn lace, drifting in the warm Gulf air.

Beneath their broad canopy, the noise of the city fades. People come and go, children play, dogs wander the grass, and afternoon light filters through the leaves.

The oaks remain, patient as ever, reminding us that while our lives pass quickly, some things are built to endure.