Wednesday, May 6, 2009

What a beautiful Seattle morning it was today. As I headed to Tulsa this morning to peddle vegetable plants at the farmers market at 6:30 I was taken by the many memories I have of this very sight. A thick foggy mist filling the air like smoke hovering behind and around the rich dark greenness of pines, cedars, maples and the clean smell of sweet moss and rotting leaves and fungi.

My old stomping ground back in Seattle had large Magnolia trees. Their smooth wet red bark always beckoned me to touch them as I passed by on my morning walks. I’m not alone I’ve seen many fellow walkers be called to do the same thing. One day I observed a full stride walker suddenly veer off the path and go right to the tree and touch it and then carry on ahead like nothing ever happened (this is Washington).

My morning walks at Seward Park on the south side of Lake Washington were always peaceful and spectacular, hiking through the damp morning trails with my dog, walking on a path of sweet rotting soft leaves and pine needles. The bright green moss on the north side of the towering pines seemed to cast a bright shimmer in spite of the lack of sunshine. It was damp, green, lush and quiet.

Walks at the park were usually solitaire, just me and my dog. In spite of it being a very popular park, run- ins with other walkers were few and far between but when two walkers would cross paths or pass each other going opposite directions there was the polite nod and a silent recognition of the quite comfort of the morning.

I drove down hwy 33 taking in the view the now full leaved black jack oaks that serve precedence over these woods. The scenery I have been used to for the past five years of driving down this highway was nearly unrecognizable. Years ago I usually dreaded this constant wet mist but now it reminds me of home and for the first time I feel this deep appreciation of my damp Seattle past and of the paths and trails of rotting soft leaves and of the bright moss on the north side of the pines so I would never lose my direction.

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