This is Old Mill Park in Mill Valley, California. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. At the turn of the last century, beside this creek tall redwoods were milled for homes across the bay, in San Francisco. Remember, this was prior to the Golden Gate Bridge, so the milled wood was taken over by barge.
The playground is surrounded by redwoods. See the huddle of trees to the left of the creek? Those are the "sprouts" surrounding. the now long-dead mother tree. One of those clusters is big enough to hold a group of concrete picnic tables in its center. One year our son's birthday party was held inside it. You can't see it but there is a playground to the left. When our kids were young, the equipment wasn't as safe as it is now. The slide was at least a story high, and the kids were thrown from it into a pile of wood chips.
Ah, good times.
We considered renting a house just above the creek, but then realized it was too small for our family of four. Wish we'd done so anyway. But if we had, the other parts of life's journey—those we'd met that very first year of living in Northern California—would have turned out very differently.
Just think about that: how just one decision—say, to turn left instead of right—can change the whole trajectory of your life.
Ever wonder if you should have turned left instead of right?