Sunday is coffee day for my beloved and I, while his taste in coffee is somewhat limited he does enjoy the syrupy sweet succor of Gloria Jean’s Crème Brûlée Chillers (no cream, no sprinkles) and I am ever happy to escape the house in search of such treats.
Instead of turning right at the round-about on our way home (milky deliciousness safe in our grasp), we went straight through and found our selves once again in a ‘burb of Hobart we’d not yet explored.
Many were the delights to behold, sweeping vistas of the mountain’s foot hills rose up before us through the grainy Sunday light and the houses lay upon the view like poorly made patchwork over lumpy bed.
At the end of the road we spied water to our right, illiciting an, “Oh! What’s that …” from the both of us. What’s that? Tolosa Park. “Aaah so that’s where it is!”
As we circled full the vast playing field, eyes remained fixed upon the stretch of water beyond. We stared with puzzlement at the little reserved huts dotting the park’s girth with names like “Koala”, “Bottle Brush” and “Gum Nut” our curiosity baited only further as we approached the water’s edge only to see it was set behind wire and lock. What an odd place to relax and yet it was swarming with large clans of sunday-makers, barbecuing meat and corn. Sausage in hand, bare foot and squealing, mad gaggles of children skip and hop along water way and drain, chasing paper boat along at a gallop through water browning and quick.
We took our leave after a few snaps were taken, but i remain curious of the history of the space and how it came to be a magnet to families despite the towering electricity carriers that loom over the landscape. Curious where a round about can take you when you go straight through instead of left.
