Something New

A new park only a few years old, polished, shined, and ready to be ravaged by children stands erect, proud like an eagle in its prime, in between the elite Santa Rosa Junior College and the Parkway Plaza shopping center. Located in Petaluma, this majestic area known as Leghorns Park is a center of activity: toddles play and scamper among the many bars and slides present in the park; children and teens face off in the baseball field, wooden bats and worn gloves in hand, basketball, and tennis; adults chatter and socialize in the cool shade of the picnic area.

Upon entering on a sunny day of February, tennis courts are the first thing to be encountered, bordering both sides of the path that leads directly to the heart of the park. In the caged insides of the tennis courts, people of varying ages and skill levels contend against one another, swatting balls back and forth until they grow tired. In the middle of the two courts (two per cage), lies a black dividing gate, and perpendicular to it, lies the tattered and worn net despite its young age, bisecting the gate. To the right of the tennis courts runs a small creek, banked with frail, naked trees, occassionally saturated with water during winter though for the most part, quite dry. And on the other side of the creek sprawls the Santa Rosa Junior College, where its sleep-deprived students just years ago played carelessly on parks just as the one adjacent to their school.

Should one decide to walk past the tennis courts, they would find themselves in the middle of Leghorns Park, the main, albeit noisy attraction. Here, they would find themselves in Never Never Land. Here, screams, yells, laughter, chatter, and chinks are heard. Here, the infants and toddlers play, running between large, colorful play structures smothered in light brown bark, watched by their parents and unwilling brothers and sisters. Here, they scream, laugh, and cry. The structures are divided into sections, much like the divisions of the cliques of high schools or the cubicles in an office. There are four play structures: a castle, a space building, a tower, and an ark.

The first structure, the castle, is a warm, inviting creation, appealing to the childhood fantasies (and for some, present beliefs) of the mind. It is a yellow and red creation, with blood red tips jutting daringly into the sky, like rooks on a chessboard. Located under the elevated floor of the castle is a dungeon, with a relatively difficult route to get into. If one should manage to escape from the cold, dark dungeon however, they would be on the second floor, where the bulk of the children play. There, they scurry from shiny slide to shiny slide and swing from slippery bar to slippery bar, fighting villains, and saving imaginary princesses. And laying about three feet from the castle is a green dragon, sleeping like a stone, guarding its treasure of sand.

The second structure, contrasting to the previous mentioned is more of a technological creation, with a rich, navy paint and an innovative grey paint. To the left of the first structure, it is like a giant, robotic snake, sprawling across twenty feet of bark, with secured platforms, "high-tech" sliders, and spinning, ascending seats. Its spine is a single grey rectangular pole, that stretches from one end of the structure to the other. And if playing upon a bionic beast did not prove thrilling enough, to the left and right of the building were spinning contraptions: on the right was a ring, like one surrounding Saturn, that many people could sit and be spun on; on the left were three individual seats attached to a pole which people could straddle and be spun on as well.

If one walked north of that structure, they should stumble upon the third play structure. It is a massive dark green tower. Like the young leaping in the air, four slides spring from up the ground, each meeting the tower at their respective openings, meeting the tower at progressively higher regions on the tower. They are each a different color. They are red, blue, green, and yellow. However, to make their way up to peak of the tower and enjoy the exhilaration of the slides, children must make a strenuous climb up a spiral staircase. There are also many difficulties along the way, such as low ceilings and dead-ends. Before the entire structure is a yellow sign that in bold letters, regretfully reads, "This unit is designed for children 5-12 only!"

The final structure is to the right of the third structure, and right next to the path upon which one should enter. It is a yellow ark in a sea of bark, with fairly small, yellow slides, stairs, and enclosed swings; it is more directed for the smaller and younger children.

If one should continue along the path and out of the world of children, then they would then find themselves passing a domed, picnic area, with wooden benches littered with used napkin, two expansive, grassy fields used for baseball, soccer, and many other sports. And if one should still continue along the path, they would quickly find themselves leaving Leghorns Park, the still proud and majestic park. Not just a place for children to play and tumble with one another, Leghorns Park is also a place for kids and teens to hang out and exercise, and for adults to chat and gossip, and at times, simply for people to let their nerves slip away.

-Brian