One of the best things about our neighborhood is the park just on the other side of the street. Part of it is that it gives the dogs a place to romp. Part of it is that we meet other dog owners, neighbors, and friends. Part is that we can look straight down the hill into Boston—on a clear day, you can catch the glint of the sunlight on the gilded dome of the State House.
And part of it is the activities that happen there. There’s a baseball diamond abutted by a soccer field—right now, the boys’ and girls’ leagues are alternating timeslots on the field. Further down the hill is a playground that brings all the neighborhood toddlers and their parents during the day.
And the other day, there was something else entirely:
Yes, Virginia, that’s a parasail. There’s a gentle slope from that hill down to the sports fields, and there was enough wind that the sail operator got about ten to twenty feet of glide at a time.
As I brought our dogs around that afternoon, I took them to the benches that overlooked the city, sat there, and watched the late summer sky deepen its blue.