At the Dog Park

Cate and Eden break the ice so Pelt and Pookie can get a drink.

life under ice

A few weeks ago we went to the dog park with Paul’s boss Clara, her husband Alex, and their two kid-substitutes, Pelt and Pookie. By ‘dog park’ I mean “gorgeous multi-acre former royal estate with manicured gardens, roses, greenhouses, villas, and tree lined lanes punctuated by enclosed gazebo’s a la this one.” Ah, The Europeans, they really know how to do things right.

The park is two trains and a short walk from us, but things run so smoothly here that even two trains only takes about 20 minutes. As you can see from the pics, the first time we went there it was, literally, freezing, and we walked home in the snow wishing we were wearing Pelt.

When we reunited with our dog walking crew this weekend, the thermostat was up to 7degrees and the pond had thawed. Clara and I even spied one early blooming cherry tree, and Cate picked a nosegay of snow drops and other tiny ground cover flower that blanket the woods in early spring. In a few weeks the woods will also be filled with adorable baby mice, tiny snails, and infant frogs — making the whole thing sound like some kind of illustration from a fairy story where the flower fairies have tea out of acorn thimbles.


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