Tag: walks

She Sells Flowers

 

 

Flowers picked from roadside green spaces, Snap Dragons, Paint Brush, Cow Parsnip, Cut leaf, Coralroot, cut, arranged in found bottles that had been rinsed, but not washed, whiskey, mayonnaise, mustard, mason, whatever bottle found then arranged by height, 20 or so, the tallest in the back, short in front, a handful of flowers in each, not too many, less is more, amongst the offering of arrangements, small hand size American flags, coasters of the Space Needle.

A Red White and Blue ribbon weaves its way through the back row of flowers, the display sits on a tie dye silk throw

Her Mid length, non-washed brown curly hair holds to her head like a helmet, Green and white pin striped button down shirt, holes in the elbows, missing buttons reveal a black bra, her jeans dirty, worn in the knees, rolled cuffs, dirty feet wearing whitish sandals. I think she was once attractive.

How much for the arrangement in back? She didn’t look me in the eye as she said “the ones in back are $7 comes with the vase”

I like the one in the Jack Daniels bottle, “Lovely” she said as she reached for the jar, handed it to me with her eyes down, her body odor was strong, it had a back odor of excrement.

She had a small wagon that I believed carried her goods, her purse sitting in it. She reached for it after I paid her.  She struggled to slip the money in, a needle fell out, the kind they hand out for free at the clinics, orange tip and cap.

I had seen her on Broadway for over a week now and curious about her goods spread out, the staging was attractive, the arrangements seemed to be done with the “right touch”

I was driving by today when I decided to make a visit.

I think she is an artist at heart, there are people who you look at, see their work and it fits together, yes, you can tell they painted that.

As I walked away, I admired my new flowers, beautiful in their contrast of something pretty and something that was used and thrown away as garbage, unwashed, taken to be used for something perhaps better.

Walking towards the train station, a bike road by me, the handle bar hit my elbow I dropped, then breaking my vase on the cement.

I kicked the bottle together, picked up the large shrouds of glass, threw it away in a garbage can.

Ill buy again from her, maybe she will show me her eyes.

The Bindweed

 

 

 

Seattle has two stadiums that sit on either side of a street in Seattle, not so much now a street as a walkway.

It is landscaped on one side, small perennials, ivy, juniper, bark dust

A Bindweed sends a vine through a small gap between bricks reaches towards the center of the sidewalk, its leaves uncurl, white trumpet flowers, the end of the vine is curled.

People step over, step next to it, occasionally step on it, through the weeks it continues to grow longer. I walk this area again; landscapers have cleared the vine.

Pine street has a walkway between 3rd and 4th.

Today a mid-30s man has stalled in his walk, one foot in front of the other as if in a normal walk, his jeans are muddy, shoes are dark, long coat, beard, long hair dark hair that hasn’t been washed in months. His arms are in a natural swing state but stationary, he is looking at the ground maybe 3 feet ahead of him. He looks like a freezeframe who’s next step is into the crosswalk. People pass him both on the left and right, some step around him glancing behind them, wondering if maybe his is a street performer.

My light turns green, he is to my right as I drive by him. I continue on my route to 2nd, south bound, then east bound back to Madison Park.  I layover for 20 mins, then head back to Pine street about 50 mins have gone by, he has now crossed the street is on my left, a few feet from the crosswalk, frozen, or moving incredibly slow.

The old woman who dresses in black, grey hair spraying out beneath her hoodie pushes her grocery cart of belongings around and past him.

My light turns green, I continue on my route to 2nd, south bound, then east bound back to Madison Park.  I layover for 20 mins, then head back to Pine street

Walks with Sheba

Sheba is a little black cat with Amber Eyes.

As with most cats when she was young, she was feisty and adventurous spent long hours outside and committed Genocide on the local mouse population, I’m convinced they moved out of my old neighborhood because of her.

Then she got into a fight, a larger cat, grey, unkept and used to winning.

It’s been my experience, when cats lose a fight they change, they become more home bound, cautious.  Out of the 6 cats in my life, only one of those cats ruled the neighborhood, a medium sized Tortoise Shell with a huge attitude.  We called her Tootie ( short for Tuti Fruiti, this is what happens pets when little kids name their pets), one of my memories of Tootie was her going after the German Shepard across the street.  He was not timid and bullied some of the dogs and some of us kids. One day Tootie wasn’t having it.  They snarled at each other, then Tootie leaped onto his shoulders and dug in…… The German Shepard, surprised, started running down the street and Tootie hopped off halfway down, sat, licked her paws and watched him dart into a neighbor’s yard.

Tootie lived to the grand age of 22 and only because she succumbed to being hit by a Truck.

I moved to Burien last year, new neighborhood lots of new sounds and smells the house I live in came with stray cats 3-5 by our estimate.  And, there is a Grey cat, pretty good looking short haired guy that what we can tell, runs the neighborhood.  We call him Tom.

Sheba was chased and taught the rules during her 1st week. 

It’s a big yard, a couple of fruit trees in the back, 2 small greenhouses and a couple of storage sheds…. Lots of room for cats and 1 of the strays, we call her Ernestine lives comfortably under our back doorsteps.

Sheba and I love our Mornings. Summertime sometimes as early as 3:30 she lets me know its time to go out, Ill grab a cup of Tea and open the door, she steps out and looks back at me to make sure I follow.  I walk behind her, we go to the bushes that line the street, walk south, then around the house.  I keep my distance by about 10 ft or so.   She keeps and eye on me but doesn’t want to be petted in front of the strays.  Sometimes Tom peeks out from the Greenhouse, glares at each of us, determines he will stay away from me, pulls his head in. She sniffs bushes, cautiously walks the sidewalk, Ernestine greets us as we walk by (she’s friendly, but doesn’t want to be touched just fed) Sheba glares and wants nothing to do with her, I say good morning Earnestine and we continue on.

Our walks somedays take a half hour, sometimes I sit and watch her go around, when she’s done she comes and sits by me on the bench and we listen to the Owls do their last hoots of the night and the crows begin their day, we watch the sky get brighter, we listen to the neighbors starting cars while others take their dogs past us on leash and wave. 

Sheba watches it all, and watches me, I stay out as long as I can, when its time to go in, I just say, “Time to go sweety”. Sheba follows me up the steps.