Empty Park

Sitting on one of the wooden benches scattered about the park i walk through every day.
Nothing is different today.
It is 4.30 and there is yet to be a person in sight.
But this is nothing new. Often the park is quiet and empty. And dark.

Green grass stretches across hills.
Seperated into chunks by thin slivers of pathways.
Trees line the paths.
The wind whistles through the trees echoing the silence.
Grass blows softly.

It is a peaceful experience to sit.
Watching.
And listening.
In the quiet park after the school bells ring.

Then into the silence rings the sound of laughter.
A dog barks and tugs on its lead.
Trying to reach the man who is jogging down the hill.
The park comes alive.
No longer a quiet expanse, but teeming with life.

The time for watching is over,
In the no longer Empty Park

Garden Antics

Sunshine, Fairytales and Magic

You know how when you're a child you automatically believe in things like magic and fairies and the ever elusive unicorn who, no matter how hard you try, can never be found?

You think they're hiding at the bottom of the garden waiting and watching. Flying and flirting. Playing in mounds of dirt that your own mother won't let you play in because you have to wear your good trousers to Sunday lunch.

And then disaster strikes. A most tragic event.

We grow up.

Then following this immediately comes

FORGETTING

Suddenly we are all too "grown up" to believe in magic and miracles. It becomes a taboo subject just to suggest that you believe, even for the tiniest of seconds, that a colony of faries live in the shrubbery.

But why?

There is no reason to forget the tales we grow up hearing. The things we wish with all our might would be real. Sometimes these are the things that keep us going. Somehow we can survive our "grown up" life a lot more easily, if we let our imaginations run WILD for a change.

Try it. I dare you.