Tigger in Clover

 Two blocks from the office there are 4 little parks arranged around a + intersection. Each one is about 50m square.

Those things with circles in them are tiny parks.

The one on the bottom left is, for some reason, maintained by a private enterprise. The other three are still under the auspices of the Council.

The privately maintained mini park is public, but the gates get locked at night so that it doesn't become a camping ground. The sign on the gates says 'no dogs because this is a children's playground'.

It does indeed have two small human agility couse areas, and it has lawns that get watered and mowed, trees, hedges, paved footpaths with no weeds and neat edges, park benches, rubbish bins and a small selection of wildlife. Small humans aside it is a tiny haven of green, fresh, cool, peacefulness.  

F showed it to me one morning a fortnight ago on our way to work. This is Tigger in clover.

Since then the lawns have been mowed a couple of times and the clover flowers have gone, but we have started making a small detour to go there on our way home from work each day

By the time we leave work in the evening the shadow of a tall building across the road has caste across the park and we can lie on our tummies on the fresh grass in the cool shade and watch the insect life that inhabits the air space about a foot above the turf.  The first night we did that we didn't stay long. F was slashing and swatting around, and swiping at the air with her big hat as small flying things attempted to make their evening meal out of her.

I just watched with calm amusement.

She went prepared with some embrocation or other the next evening and we spent a pleasant half hour shooting the breeze.  We saw an Oriental Hornet dashing about, and some flying insect that appeared to hop haphazardly over the grass, bouncing around like a ping pong ball. Cicadas ratcheted away in the trees, and there were a few birdsongs.

The only problem was my seatbelt. F hadn't pinged it undone and it does weird stuff to the bones in  my legs - they won't work to walk so I had to tummy shuffle commando style around the lawn.

On Friday night she remembered to ping the seatbelt and we had a better explore until F spotted the piebald local who appeared to be hunting for his dinner in the narrow space under a small shed.

She made the executive decison that it was time to go then, but I do hope we go back more; it has potential.