After summer had abandoned its lethargic rousing, it graced us with its sprightly sun and and warming embrace. It may have been a late arrival, but its fashionably late burst into fruition negated the dreary days of pitter-pattering minions of darkened nimbus. When these days came around I had my Eden to turn to, my sanctum of solace, the loom that wove all that I loved about summer into one tapestry of beauty, who could ask for more. I would head there with a book for the day,  go along with some friends, and other times I’d simply walk my thoughts through the park.

It was a good twenty minute walk to the park from where I stayed. A pretty straight forward route, dotted with a convenience stores. These  shops were perfectly situated to cater to my hunger for all manner of treats. When the heat was boastful and right, the obvious choice was a nice cold treat, the type that was affordable, sweet, cold and coloured my tongue a vast array of vivid reds, greens, blues and purples, the ever reliable ice lolly. A quick stop for supplies and off for the park, armed with a bag full of treats, my excitement would bubble in a crescendo of excitement as I grew closer and closer. A further two minutes from the shops, turn right, and there it was.

Even before I set foot into the park I could see the expanse of green grass, with accents of gold around the football goals, where excited feet rushed around as its gracious host fed there jovial canter, On the nearest edge of the grass was a small playground, the unmistakable creak of the swing set piercing through the children’s laughter. On days like these there was always children’s laughter filling the air, parents sat outside the enclosure as the children played, the stray parent or two joining the merriment. The joy was almost palpable, coursing through the place.

I always kicked my shoes off my feet when I got there. I wanted to feel the soft green right underneath me, warm and welcoming, I wanted every sense to dine on the feast of my Eden. As I walked past the tall row of trees that filed along the left hand side of the grass i could feel the crunch of leaves under the soles of my bare feet, I walk on as they whisper stories, stories of a lifetime in the canopy of their guardians. These trees stood along the edge like family, they all looked similar in one way or another, each with a uniqueness of character to them, the same resemblance that siblings bare. Under there outstretched leafy arms you could hide from the heat of the sun, if its kiss proved too passionate. The wind the rustled the leaves and tickled the skin was a temperamental one, sometimes it blew with a heated passion, other times it would tease the suns power off the skin,  cooled the beads of sweat from the brow and steadied the heat.

The shade of the trees made a perfect location for sitting down and enjoying a read or a nibble. It was always cool and  shaded, the sun would wink through the canopy every now and then , but the trees would keep me sheltered, unmoved as I reclined on its trunk, towering behind and over me, as though reading over my shoulder. The feather bodies that scurried through the leaves would accompany the summer in there joyful riffs. The scurrying squirals would dance along the branches, but they were all welcome company.

Further into the park,only a short daydreaming wonder from there green, was a large pond, alive with life. A span of tranquil libation for the travelling birds. From my observation, this pond was home to two gracious swans that nested on the nearest bank of this wavy watery mirror. A whole host of feathered folk danced in the pond, mallards and a complimentary cast of water fowl waded to and fro, bobbing there beaks into the water, occasionally a crafty bird or two would full submerge itself in the pond to emerge a few seconds later. A circus of motion on so many planes.

I would spend the best part of an afternoon there in that park. Reveling in the broad pallet of colours and sounds. The green and gold of the grass, the blue hue of the watery parquet, the pearly white feathers of the gracious swans with  those orange beaks, the colourful coats of the ducks and there entourage, the blue sky with wondering whites that sweep through it, that golden sun, that crackling brown skin of the trees and there bronzing leaves, the rusting aging goal post that persists to stay and make merry with the visitors. And the symphony, oh what a symphony that would play there.

Take me back to my Eden. I hope my sanctum will remember me and once again we can embrace one another. Maybe again I can let those blades of grass embrace my stride and share with me the excitements I’ve missed in our time apart. Let the leaves hug there branches, but please let a stray leaf or two, one of  those, eager to meet me leaves, come back down and lay with me again. Send me there so I can wave to the swans, ask them about there pond and those rowdy fowls, those acrobatic ducks in there wading and head bobbing.

That place will always live on in my memories, whenever my eyelashes cage close a blink I know i will see it again, my Eden.