My morning started here, crossing a footbridge into lower
Woodland Park. People were scarce, the only sound a fresh breath of summer combing through high trees, and the heat of the day, ninety degrees Farenheit at its worst, was still hours away.
Darth Vader and friends were out in force to promote a massive sale at
Comics Dungeon. They arrested anyone wearing a t-shirt from the previous night's Rush concert.
I didn't expect to time travel this weekend. We happened upon a coin-operated video game arcade, a shadowy cove behind
Pink Gorilla (which joins Seattle's
rainbow fleet of pink elephants, red robins and brown bears), and it was like going back in time to junior high, when I would blow all my paper route money in a place just like this one.
Washington state loses more of its citizens to propane every year.
It was wonderful to see the sun go down. People on the street were maundering zombies, heat drunk, with skin various shades of pink and orange, wiping sweat away with weak limbs and craving milkshakes, slurpees or margaritas -anything with life-giving cold to renew strength and vitality, little suspecting that tomorrow would bring another round of the summer sauna. I know what you're thinking:
those wimps.
Six good years at Zoo Station, home longer than any other but the California house where I grew up. Moving out next month won't be easy. I'll miss the camaraderie and the memorable mixers we've thrown, and after I'm gone I'll pine for long walks through the park, located with the zoo right across the street.
My day starts with a walk, rousting myself in the wee hours to trudge through the park for a nice warm dose of caffeine. There's a dirt path that winds past the eastern border of the zoo that during the rainy season turns into Gravy Lane. Splorching your way up the muddy incline, it leads to a footbridge that after traversing Aurora Avenue debouches into the park proper. Lovely spot. I've had some of my best walks there, at times developing into a full trot when the ideas are flowing so freely that I can't wait to get home and write them down: most if not all primary plotting of my novel occurred during walks in Lower Woodland Park. I'll miss it a lot.
