first froste

One of the small pleasures in life is smooshing down the crinkly pillows of air in mossed-up grass into mysterious crop circles on a frosty morning while waiting for the big yellow school bus to appear like an apparition out of the big green of the Arboretum but as the stop is down in the valley where the sun barely don’t shine (by two o’clock in the afternoon those sunbeams promptly disappear someplace like the west slope of snooty Queen Anne Hill) Adam and I often resort to huddling like shivering, scared pups baffled by each other’s wispy dragon breathpuffs.

At lunchtime on my way home from the acquisition of the Darth Vadery solar panels which will be hung on a rusty hook next to the hummingbird feeder on the backyard lean-to in the event of a not-too-unlikely catastrophic earthquake which will perhaps flatten our rickety old house (never mind less-appealing Plan B wherein everything’s relocated to the bottom of the liquefied hill) an over-height box truck had become tightly wedged beneath that cute stone footbridge on Lake Washington Boulevard which most visitors to Washington Park Arboretum will regard with so much casual admiration such little inkling do they have about the longstanding (1911) utility of the invisible aqueduct which if you must know is listed by the National Register of Historic Places quite possibly making it one of the most distinguished sewer pipes around.  As you can imagine, neither the embarrassed, distressed driver of the box truck nor the annoyed police officer (directing one lane of traffic) had need of such information.  Poop, poop, poop!

postscript: This was that quite cold, brilliant sunshine-filled week early in December the day after I fell on the stairs and you will see I wasn’t so awfully hurt as to not be walking around like a dadnabbed fool making crop circles. Regarding the Arboretum Sewer Trestle (the wondrously inelegant official name which nobody has ever heard of) let me tell you it was the third time I’ve witnessed decapitated automotive wreckage underneath that historic aqueduct. The first occasion featured a super-crumpled fifteen-foot moving truck while the second instance involved a frighteningly sheared-off tour bus. Now maybe these witnessings don’t exactly fall into the category of darnedest things but sort of they do, I believe. Speaking of which, I find myself real tickled at the spelling of “darnedest”. The unexpected extra “e”, I love it. I had no idea.

11 thoughts on “first froste

  1. Wow I love this. My only regret is not waiting to read it until first thing New Year’s Day, so I could tell everyone I started the year by learning of the Arboretum Sewer Trestle. But a fine monumental end to the year, this is now one of my top three favorite sewers. And this is terrific writing.
    I love bridges and anything of that ilk, and cannot believe I’ve gotten this far along, without knowing of the AST’s existence. I hope to walk across that some day, on a cold evening, so I can breath out clouds of vapor, too, although in my case, simulated locomotive/sewer effusions, rather than dragon. Happy New Year, I enjoy reading your posts.

    • Hi Robert. A Happy New Year to you, as well! I’m looking forward to reading more of your essays which I hold in the highest esteem and maybe I can fulfill my end of the bargain by writing increasingly comprehensible sentences. And perhaps someday you will cross over the Arboretum Sewer Trestle (for a walk through bountiful azaleas) but hopefully not in the oncoming path of a poorly-trained Greyhound bus driver who just at that moment is reminding passengers to avoid using the bus lavatory if at all possible.

  2. I love the mental image of you and Adam making “crop circles” while waiting for the bus! I suspect bored parents at the bus stop are the *real* cause behind many of the similar phenomena that are reported each year around the globe. How crazy too that you’ve witnessed no fewer than three vehicular decapitations at the Arboretum Sewer Trestle (much prettier in person than it sounds, I’m sure). You would think by now someone would have put a sign on the thing, like “Only you can prevent vehicular decapitations,” or “Washington’s #1 cause of embarrassing insurance claims.” But apparently not. Well. Fingers crossed that there won’t be any earthquakes or landslides in the year ahead, or any more treacherous staircases, or murderous aqueducts! I wish you and yours a lovely, peaceful, happy, healthy New Year.

    • Heide, Happy New Year to you, as well! Thank you for being such a wise, funny friend. You really inspire me because you’re so good and I hope you’ll keep being on WordPress with some regularity throughout this next year in all your grandeur although I know you might be playing life whack-a-mole after the events of the past month and a half. And speaking of the Arboretum Sewer Trestle, it had occurred to me it could use one of those overheight alarm thingies that frighten dazed drivers of big rigs into pulling the whole mess around before crunch time. Could’ve sworn it had one of those deals. But enough of that subject!

      • Awww … you sure know how to make a gal’s day, dear T-Fir. Thank YOU for the inspiration to keep blogging! It’s tough to keep at it when life keeps handing me moles that need whacking, but your friendship alone makes it worth every minute. Thank you.

        As for that trestle … yes, they really should install an early warning system of some sort. Or maybe dig a trench, so the road actually dips a bit as you approach the thing? Though I suppose that would flood, and then you’d have a WET decapitated semi. Hmmm. This may require some sophisticated engineering!

    • Hi again, Louise. First of all, please accept my apology for taking so long to reply to your question. It was winter break from school and I was in charge of the boys most of that time and then on top of that grandmother was visiting. The short answer to your question is that I’ve been journaling on WordPress for seven years and while I’ve always appreciated the silliness of “Tyrannosaurus Fir” because it was honest homage to certain, original inspiration I had to share writing on this platform, the past few years I’ve found myself growing a little self-conscious about the cuteness of that moniker. This was the second time I recently tinkered with the name for the heck of it. As you can see I went back to the old title. It’s official that I’ve resigned myself what’s done is done and that taking myself seriously would be a gross misrepresentation of the worst magnitude (plus, my replacement idea was almost as goofy). I know I always say it but I’m looking forward to writing (and sharing images) to WordPress with far more regularity this year and I hope you’re feeling similarly inspired.

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