Willow Park Dowerglen: Unexpectedly Showing Off

Quick catch-up for the new (a few), the confused (most), and the indifferent (the majority, let’s be honest).

There’s been some confusion about the one they call “Benson.”

Benson is a fluff nugget.

A chaotic little devil wrapped in cuteness and poor impulse control - perfectly imperfect.

Also - Benson is not MY dog.

He belongs to my son, Salt, and his other half, Nutmeg - which apparently makes him my “granddog.”

Yes, that’s a thing now.

Salt - my deeply ungrateful yet somehow still beloved child - despite my entirely reasonable objections - brought Benson into my life about a year ago, while still living with me (his amazing mother, just to clarify).

And, exactly as I predicted - because I am, annoyingly, almost always right - I fell completely, irrevocably in love with him.

So when Salt and Benson moved out a few weeks ago, it wasn’t just a “change” or an “adjustment.”

No. It was a full emotional extraction.

Heart: gone.

Soul: missing.

Yes, Salt left too, but Benson is the one who did the real damage.

…okay fine, a little bit Salt as well.

Anyway.

Before life got in the way, Salt and I were serious hikers.

Salt, who functions as a human GPS with legs, is calm, grounded, vaguely "woodland creature adjacent" energy.

The polar opposite of my other son Pepper, for those wondering.

And suddenly, we hadn’t hiked together in nearly a year.

The Invitation

So when he suggested, “Let’s go for a hike on Sunday - with Benson,” I was beyond ecstatic.

That hope, however, was slowly chipped away over the course of the week via WhatsApp.

It went from “Let’s go for a hike” to “maybe more of a walk,” to “not very far,” and finally to the inevitable “let’s not drag it out.”

To be fair, Benson barks at everything - people, dogs, possibly even passing thoughts - and pulls on the leash like he’s personally responsible for towing the earth forward.

And Salt, much like myself, prefers to exist in public without being noticed.

The Location

I, however, had a plan.

Then - because consistency is his strongest personality trait - 6:00 AM Sunday morning the message came through.

“Do you really want to go there? Or can we just go somewhere closer….. like Willow Park?” (which he had mentioned before.)

At this point, I chose emotional maturity.

Also, I hadn’t seen Benson in two weeks, which is basically a lifetime, so fine.

Standards lowered.

Expectations buried.

The Park

Now listen carefully, because this does not happen often.

I was wrong.

Standards did not drop.

If anything, they were aggressively raised.

Willow Park is not just “nice” - it’s ridiculous - a full-on hidden gem that has no business being this good.

It’s spotlessly clean, beautifully maintained, and has wide open plains where dogs and kids can run wild and free.

Follow the walking paths and you’ll find a large lake where - because apparently this place does everything - you can also fish.

There are braai areas for a proper day out, plus a playground to keep kids entertained - which seems to have missed the upgrade memo, but is still holding it together surprisingly well.

The entire park is enclosed, with security patrolling day and night.

The only downside? No ablution facilities.

Other than that, it’s an incredible spot.

Perfect for families, dogs, and anyone who enjoys being pleasantly proven wrong.

Credit Where It’s Due

And here’s the part that’s both impressive and mildly infuriating: this level of beauty doesn’t just happen.

It’s clearly the work of the local community - yes, again, Edenvale - who have decided, collectively, to care, to maintain - to create something genuinely special.

Which, naturally, begs the obvious question: why does it take a community to achieve what should be baseline?

Councils, feel free to take notes.

Or don’t.

That seems more on brand.

I’m not even going to try describe the park in more detail.

I took a gazillion photos, and they’ll do a far better job than I ever could - with significantly less attitude.

But to the Edenvale community - again, for what feels like the third time in recent months - genuinely, bravo.

Actually, no… bravo times two.

You’ve set the bar unreasonably high, which is great for literally everyone except the local councils, who will undoubtedly continue confidently pretending this is absolutely acceptable.

So we’ll all just continue enjoying spaces maintained by people who care, while waiting patiently for that long-promised wave of accountability to arrive.

Any minute now.

Still nothing?

Well this is wildly unexpected.