Spent the early evening in a lock-and-key garden in Boston on this 90º day.
It was dappled and green — quite warm — and I read as four little blonde haired girls played and darted around. It was funny to hear the taller ones tell the smaller ones, “This isn’t a game for little girls.” But at a certain point they were running and tossing a giant pink ball as one.
When I was walking to leave I heard one crying, so I turned around to see her clinging to her big sister, she had taken a tumble. I talked to her and crouched on the ground at her side, while she inspected her knees and waited as Sister went to fetch Mom.
Turns out everyone was fine.
The park is such a gorgeous place, walled all around by red brick town houses. It’s kind of enchanted, considering that on the other side of a row of buildings is a very busy commercial street.
Here’s a picture:
And I’ll say to you what I did to the young ones, lovely meeting you and have a good night.