We live next to a large park.
I love living next to a park. It's like having a massive back yard that someone else takes care of. Mowing, watering, gardening. They even keep the play equipment in top shape, and this weekend they opened a new outdoor basketball court. Living by a park is way better than having a back yard. Trust me. I've had both.
Anyway, a fun thing about the park is that stuff happens there.
Standard stuff, like community sports: soccer, football, tennis, softball, quidditch.
Parties.
Dog gatherings. Weekend mornings, everyone and their dog is in the park. I mean it. At least as many dogs as people, and the dogs love it.
Running. I go running there too, on Sundays. I usually just zigzag around a few of the sidewalks for 20 to 30 minutes. Twice around the perimeter is a 5K, but it's more fun to run diagonally through and diagonally back. Dodge the dogs and the little kids and the old people.
There is a hospital directly across the park on the south side, so helicopters fly in and out at odd times. The park is a good place for watching helicopter take off and landings.
Hot air balloons.
We also seem to be one of the standard take-off and landing spots for hot air balloon tours over the city. That means that on a Monday morning, I might interrupt my commute to work to take photos of incoming balloons:
And on a Tuesday, if it takes me a little longer to get out of the house than the Monday, I find the balloons already scattered around the park -- landed -- in various stages of deflating.
And then on a Thursday, the smell of smoke fills the air, with firetrucks lining the access road over by the primary school.
When the main artery on the opposite side of the park was blocked by police, I did a quick scan on my phone.
The church pretty much completely burned down, taking with it a private kindergarten. But the school was ok.
The park. The place where stuff is happening.
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