Maze

The tiny circular 'maze' in our local park is only knee-high, a midget maze, yet the wean was always drawn to it, ever since he could walk. 

So was I when I parked nearby this evening (Lola waiting in the car, impatient for her gambol). A little later I noticed a group of teenagers pause there to dally awhile under the streetlight. Something about it winds in the passer by. There's a stone pedestal in the centre that presumably once supported a statue. I wonder how old it is. I'm pretty sure it was a garden feature when the place was still a convent rather than a business college, long before the housing estates (whose lit windows are in the background) grew up around it. Somewhere for a Sister of Mercy to pause during her ambulatory devotions. 

When we were teenagers we used hop over the wall, often at night, and cross the fields to a little wood nearby, all long since checkmated by the new roads and houses. I doubt we ever noticed the maze, and we wouldn't have paused there anyway as it was too close to the convent buildings, the nuns whose then-private land we were trespassing on.