On Monday, Audrey and I took Dagny to a local park.
This park is new, having opened in late 2013.
The fairly lavish fourteen-acre facility -- construction of which cost taxpayers nearly two million dollars -- gained instant notoriety by being the place where a three-year-old boy, playing there last summer, was killed when a tree branch fell on him.
Following the macabre accident, the park was closed briefly. Yesterday was my first time to see it, although Audrey said she took newborn Dagny there last July, just to get out of the house.
It's a beautiful park with several fantastic play areas for kids.
Yesterday it was all but empty. There is no sign of the unthinkable tragedy; the trees are beautiful and the breeze was delightful.
I've always loved play equipment, especially swings. Did I ever tell you that on our first date, TG and I sat in a little park at night, on a carousel-type installation, and TG nearly became ill?
My beloved is afflicted with motion sickness. I am not affected in the least by motion; it's getting up early that makes me sick.
Anyway the park where we took Dagny yesterday has a huge shallow-bowl type swing that immediately caught my attention.
It's like the love child of a hammock and a flying saucer, with a suspension bridge as godparent. I had a great time swinging languidly and looking up at the trees, hoping fervently nothing would fall on me.
When I finally vacated the disc-swing-thing -- I've since found out that at least one of its commercial names is Biggo Swing -- Audrey got in and I handed Dagny to her.
They both loved it.
After enjoying that for a time, we walked around -- walkies -- and took pictures of Dagny, who turns ten months old today.
We couldn't help but notice, situated near the three play areas, at least four tall shiny black poles supporting sophisticated (and expensive) ominously Orwellian multi-directional security camera balls.
No telling what those cost. Can't kids just be cut loose to play anymore, without cameras being necessary to catch the moment when someone gets hurt -- or worse -- and a lawsuit inevitably ensues?
Guess not. Because you never know what might happen and when it does, we must know precisely where to place the blame.
At the tail-end of our visit I spotted a Boston Terrier who turned out to be named Toddy. That's the waggies part.
For a look at all of my shots from Monday at the park with Dagny, click here.
And that is all for now.