My husband and I are country mice. Wood mice to be exact. We fell in love with each other, and with photography, while traveling through Yellowstone National Park. We live for the great outdoors...too much time on concrete and we'll start to get itchy.

Even in London, one of the most spectacularly engaging metropolitan marvels of the world, we sought out the green. And what we found were The Royal Parks.

They did not disappoint...

Bushy Park is closest to our point of departure, a quick walk through the neighborhood, and then right in the gate. The gate, something out of The Secret Garden, with a passage area (a portal) through which you leave the streets of London suburbs, and enter the world of the parks. Expansive fields with green runways checked through, does and their fawns grazing lazily as the impressive 16-point stag stands watchfully by, dogs running free, their owners following casually behind, chatting happily or simply soaking in the sunshine; living beyond the 9 to 5 and the rush of the rat race. And not apologizing for it.

Bushy Park Our first day exploring we meet a man from South Africa. He's there to watch his son play rugby. A gruff teddy bear of a man, comfortable and confident in his jeans and worn leather jacket. "Americans, eh? You know anything about rugby?" Admittedly, we know very little and luckily have crossed paths with an expert. 15 minutes in, the explanation starts to feel like a trip down the rabbit hole, rules and regulations piling on top of one another like a scrum. Suffice it to say, our teacher tells us, "if ya get even some of it, yer as good as the rest 'o us. If ya get it all, yer far too clever." His son trots by, heading to the clubhouse before game time, "Son, I got ya a couple 'o mince meat pies." This is good people.

In spite of the magnificent deer, the pristine parade of swans, the frisky foxes, and the rolling meadows, I am most captivated by the people of the parks. These people, who live so fully. Enjoying the present moment. Full of play, a quality near and dear to my own heart. A mother who nearly crashes her stroller making a sharp right into a pile of leaves, relishing the opportunity to muck about with her toddler. A father who cuts a furtive glance towards his son, breaking into a sprint to race each other through the courtyard. A grandmother who walks slowly behind her little companion, allowing him to experience the park at his own speed, which for this portly little bundle is a stop and go game. "He's adorable," I tell her, expecting to receive the conditioned thank you with polite smile. "Fan-tastic, isn't he?!" she responds exuberantly, without missing a beat. Yup, good people.

Bobby and I head out on a new adventure each day, backpack heavy with camera equipment, salami sandwiches, potato chips, apples, and a pint for the road. Teddington to London and everything in between, all free reign for exploring. Follow the path, you'll end up somewhere. Forget Disney, this is our new form of park hopping: our means of passing from park to park through back alleys, neighborhoods, and nature preserves. Walk until you can't anymore...which means it's time to head into town for some fish and chips. A luxury seldom found in Yellowstone.

As we emerge from another adventure in the woods, the clouds above the clearing of Richmond Park are spectacular. The city skyline looms in the foreground...London lies ahead. It's nearly time to enter the big city, twilight is coming and soon the streets will glow with a soft yellow light. The night belongs to the city. But the days...the days belong to the Royal Parks.

~ Kolleen