It was Wednesday. I was done with shift at 1pm and had a whole serendipitous afternoon in front of me. The sun was shining, trees are ridiculously lush, flowers are showing off their private parts to their pollinators and innocent passerby’s. Birds and bees filling the airwaves with their incessant songs and wing flaps. Do bees flap their wings?
When I set out on a walk, I never know where exactly I am going. That would defeat the purpose of going with the flow. Instead I think of a direction. North, East, South or West. Those are my four choice. I let the esoteric, archetypal, cryptic qualities of the directions be my guide. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to intuit with my body the pull of my soul. It’s like a murraders map traveling in the channels of my body. You can’t over think it though, no logic involved, no second guessing. Get the guidance and go.
I wandered north of Burnside between 33rd and 28th. North simply because I thought of the phrase “True North”. I had three companions: my camera, a paper bag and a clippers.
There is a most magical corner lot at 31st and Couch. The gardens took my breath away. I studied the layout, the planting stagey, the color palate and textures. An artist or two live here. I imagine them as Elfin folks with beautiful shiny hair draped in lavish robes, dripping with shimmering moss and tipped with golf leaf. For a moment I thought about quitting acupuncture school and becoming a devotee of gardening , but I don’t think Rob would appreciate it. Maybe I can combine the two. Gardening is healing, is it not? Healing is cultivating and tending to the garden of the body and soul, so it can share its beauty with the world, is it not?
An antique box spring composed a wall of their chicken coop. Found doors and windows added interest to a plain old fence. Even the corner of their parking space had a wrought iron pretty something in it. The magenta roses were the absolute best smelling roses this season so far.
Can I have a rose bush like these? Do they live in pots? I must dedicate myself to finding the answer, because how can you I not have roses like this in my life. Until then, I can walk to NE Everett and sneak a whiff now and again. I wonder if these roses smell better in the middle of the night.