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Picture of the Day
December 11, 2021

Was supposed to DJ an outdoor flea market today but the forecast was dire so it got canceled last night. Then of course it turned out to be kind of nice so Sarah and I took advantage of the brief sunbreak to admire moss, first in trees, then the engraved granite epitaph of Alki Point's first pioneer daughter. Further up the hill, past Local 32 plumbers' corner (their union solidarity unbroken even in death) and the newly renovated approach to Bruce Lee's grave, Sarah spied Denise Levertov's name and ye olde pocket oracle confirmed it was indeed the poet. Cold and mostly clear, we sought the tropical touch of the Conservatory, a psychedelic love-in of exotic plants writhing and twining ensconced in a palace of sweating glass, transplants all. (That's OK, no one's from Seattle anymore.) The mercury read 74℉, 30 degrees warmer than outdoors. Masks attenuated the olfactory experience but we could still snatch chocolates from a passing train, sneak them to our lips. I'm cultivating contentment, luxuriating in the simplest things: the patient cactus, one single breath, a stolen kiss.