Cruel and usual
That would be April. Taunting with hints of balminess, then throwing buckets of cold water over anyone who dares to commit to an outdoor activity. So I look for signs which appear regardless.
Not too far from here, on my route down to the University District, there is a large, unkempt but intriguing lot with a Gothic-y old brick house settled in amidst all manner of plant life. The first to appear in their wild sideyard are snowdrops, countless numbers of them, very early in the spring. The snowdrops are supplanted with some astoundingly intensely blue star-shaped flowers; they in turn fade away, as a spreading stand of some kind of curly petaled, bent over pink and white lilies start blooming, way down in the northeast corner of their front yard, beneath a Sequoia tree. It has a companion tree, further north in the front yard, that has at least twice its girth. This tree is so huge, it will probably take over half the front planting eventually, if it isn't logged out. In all the years we've lived here, and all the times I've walked down the alley on this property's southern edge, I've never seen any signs of habitation, nor anyone in the yard. As I looked at the lilies this afternoon, I pondered what will eventually befall this unique little plot.
(Click on photo to enlarge)
Not too far from here, on my route down to the University District, there is a large, unkempt but intriguing lot with a Gothic-y old brick house settled in amidst all manner of plant life. The first to appear in their wild sideyard are snowdrops, countless numbers of them, very early in the spring. The snowdrops are supplanted with some astoundingly intensely blue star-shaped flowers; they in turn fade away, as a spreading stand of some kind of curly petaled, bent over pink and white lilies start blooming, way down in the northeast corner of their front yard, beneath a Sequoia tree. It has a companion tree, further north in the front yard, that has at least twice its girth. This tree is so huge, it will probably take over half the front planting eventually, if it isn't logged out. In all the years we've lived here, and all the times I've walked down the alley on this property's southern edge, I've never seen any signs of habitation, nor anyone in the yard. As I looked at the lilies this afternoon, I pondered what will eventually befall this unique little plot.
(Click on photo to enlarge)
posted by isabelita at 10:15 AM
5 Comments:
What I find wonderful about you, Isa, is that your actions harken back to a day when people used to walk around their neighborhoods and talk with their neighbors. these days, we get drive by shootings and people looking out for potential terrorists or lurkers...Zoiks. What's happened to our communities? The empty house, perhaps is beakoning? For a knock on the door?
Hello, 'spike! Are you back in the Bay Area? Can't wait to see your impressions of J-Tree...
Funny thing about Seattle, one really can't presume to go knock upon doors. It's taken YEARS to establish our little connected block. it's a strange town, has a reputation for being rather chilly, and not just its weather.
Argh. Perhaps I cannot help but harken back, since I am of a...certain age.
Sheez, what a tree! I love mysterious houses with unkempt grounds. Gives the imagination all sorts of fun! Oh, Miss Haversham!
Those photos were taken by my beloved spouse, under my minimal artistic direction.
Hmmm....now I will be envisioning a petrified wedding cake on the dining room table, every time I pass that house, neil!
That's one honkin big tree. Trees down here are too tired from the heat to grow so tall. They get heat exhaustion.
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