hot tubs, free range chickens and trampolines
I got the idea for sharing this image from yesterday, when Oliver Fern and I were in the backyard playing trucks in the huge dirt hole that goes by the name Sleeping Frog Swamp and we were also chatting with the chickens next door who typically stop whatever they’re doing to flap to the top of their coop and stare at us with a mixture of skittishness and wonderment. For a relatively suburbanish city like Seattle we have postage stamp-sized yards (3,000 to 4,000 square feet) being that we live in the central city. Oliver was eavesdropping on our neighbor, who was alternately working on his new (used with a bit of dried-up rot along the bottom, otherwise mint condition) hot tub, flipping steaks on the grill and talking on his cell phone with someone on the Big Island (Hawaii) to reserve the right sized surfboard for when he’s there later this week. I pretended to not be listening (i was) but Oliver stood there like an oracle and the next time Mr. Mark came out to monitor the steaks (which I was smelling in my sleep hours later) Oliver commenced his interrogation regarding surfboards and Hawaii. It all led to a neighborly chat that has me a little worried about the boys staring like freaks, green with envy at whoever’s chilling out in the hot tub next time soon. But I’m not really that worried. Chickens, a trampoline, a zipline (albeit, out of commission and fading into obscurity in the tall grass) and now a hot tub. We just can’t compete with that and the boys will learn at an early age there’s nothing really more invigorating than going for a long walk in the Arboretum and following it up with a cutthroat UNO game featuring certain enhanced rules. It’s not a hot tub, but I’ve always liked the little intermediate pools and spillways below this waterfall in the foothills above Seattle. These three exposures are from the same outing.
It was a pretty rainy Sunday afternoon at times. I wanted to catch up on writing and eating so I stayed at the house with Littlest Brother while Adam and his mom went to the Fremont Sunday Market. Adam wanted to take another look at some rocks and minerals he saw a couple weeks ago. I was a tad nervous- he emptied his piggybank. So I was a little bit surprised he only came home with a chunk of Moroccan aragonite, a couple Tibetan bracelets (one for Oliver), a beanie baby squirrel and a disgustingly chewed-up pencil he got for free. The pencil featured some controversial baseball trivia- I didn’t have the heart to tell Adam that Hank Aaron isn’t technically the all-time home run leader, anymore. But that he is in my book since after all Barry Bonds took the cream and the clear or something like that, I never was able to keep that idiotic soap opera straight. I was a little discombobulated this weekend. I’m really glad tomorrow is Monday. How often do you hear someone say that?