Hawthorn

Yes, its finally done it.  After what seems like an eternity of teasing the Hawthorn Canal has finally achieved the ultimate mark of success; a light rail station named after it.  The light rail has dogged the canal's footsteps so faithfully that it appeared a restraining order might be required.  Now the two prepare to part ways as the canal oozes into the Parramatta River and the light rail, disinclined to get its feet wet, takes a sharp right turn and heads towards the city.  Before the, no doubt, tearful farewell the light rail deposited me at Hawthorn station so that I could say my own goodbyes to this stormwater drain cum open sewer that has found a place in my heart (although not my stomache because nothing could persuade me to drink the water).

The greenway which has provided a ribbon of trees to either shade or conceal the canal (depending on your viewpoint) has now broadened out into a genuine open area.  This is a mixed blessing as having been provided with an open area the local humans couldn't resist doing something with it.  As a result the light rail station has deposited me at Hawthorn dog park.  Here scruffy, long haired animals run about panting in excitement while their dogs watch them with a combination of surprise and embarrassment.

This is a leash free park where our canine companions can stretch their legs and (from the look of the ground) their bowels without hindrance.  The canal running through it has now reached a sufficient depth that it can be used for the traditional purpose of canals, tossing rubbish into them.  Gates, chunks of pipe and the occasional ride share bike provide impromptu homes for the scrubby, mud coloured fish which swim through the scrubby mud, coloured water. 

Still if you don't look too closely (and if you're wise most of your attention will be on where you're putting your feet) it's an open, almost rural setting.  Trees and the occasional strategically placed bench complete the scene as a place of recreation and relaxation although if I were designing it I would probably have tossed in a few more garbage bins.  I was slobbered on by more than one indiscriminately friendly canine and despite not being an instinctive dog lover I was rather pleased by the attention. 

In fact I was so pleased by the scene that I took a number of photos of it which on closer examination all turned out to look roughly the same (grass plus a canal).  I've attached one at random below.

I acknowledge the lack of dogs in this photo but I assure you they're lurking just out of camera shot covering their face with their paws and muttering about the paparazzi (they're actually on the other side of the trees to the right).

Yes, charming indeed but to appeal to me a setting must have something more.  Specifically it must have coffee.  Enter Cafe Bones, a cafe in a dog park which gives you an indication about the bulk of its clientele.  It serves doggy treats, puppacinos and, in deference to the fact that dogs don't usually carry cash, also somewhat reluctantly provides sustenance for the human owners as well.  At the time I was there it appeared that there were about three dogs for every human and nobody seemed to know quite who owned which but they were all friendly, if a little ball obssessed, and the humans weren't too irritating either.  The dog theme even extended outside the park.  As I was strolling down a nearby street I noticed a van plastered with the logo of Woofies, who provide dog services.  So presumably if you need your dog serviced they're the people to call.

We're actually in the middle of a reasonably large city with major roads (and at least one light rail line) nearby but if your house fronted onto one of the narrow streets near the dog park it might be easy to think you lived in a country village.  Quiet streets, leafy surrounds, loads of dogs it even has a canal.  All of this without the major inconvenience of living in the country which is living in the country.  It might be a nice place to retire to.  It would certainly beat moving to the country.