Good Bloggin'

My grandmother met my grandfather at a ball game, and loved the game (but not him -- but that's a different story) until the day she passed away. She bought this house situated directly across from what was then, ca. 1952, a ball field. Well, that ball field has evolved into a spectacular baseball mini-stadium with a rustic look of two-tone terra-cotta paint accented with green trim. The carefully maintained area surrounding the park houses beautiful trees and other vegetation, a winding track, an activities gazebo and a small playground for young children. Right now, there must be at least ten identically clad, in bright green uniform t-shirts, two to three year-olds running around gleefully, cueing up to climb to slide down the red, spiral "chorrera", owning the entire place since there is no one else around only their watchful caregivers. On weekends, there is a parade of families celebrating birthdays mixed in with laborious joggers, strollers and athletic sports-inclined people. Last Sunday, I witnessed a piñata moment, whose violence a parent ended by opening it up for the children who looked about the same age as the ones out there now. A young man was practicing his juggling act nearby. Ball players were out on the field, seemingly oblivious of everyone else, their bats an offshoot of the trees surrounding them. If only my grandmother was here to see this... she'd love it like I do.