Just like a lot of mammas around the world our local park has become a mainstay of my weeks. But as the saying goes familiarity breeds contempt and I find myself getting rather bored with the idea of another trip to the park. Sometimes I just can’t muster much enthusiasm to walk along the same old street, past the same old shop and cross the same old busy road to get there.
But once I’m through the gates and the traffic give way to leafy green, and I’m walking through the avenue of grand plane trees, or spotting heron at the pond as I circle with the buggy or witnessing the pure toddler joy as I push him on the swings I never do regret to making the trip.
It’s a big park with plenty of different routes to take. My favourite section has been left to grow quite wild and when taking this path you can easily feel that you are walking in woodland, not an innercity park. Bluebells and wild garlic appeared in the spring and right now there is an array of tall grasses their seed heads turning brown.
But in May there was cow parsley; swathes of green with those delicate lacy tops that seemed to glow in the evening sun. The days were getting longer and hinting at the summer yet to come.