I am so grateful for Seattle's light rail. Without it, I'd have to drive to work in horrendous commuter traffic. But there's a catch: I live over a mile from the station, which means either walking or riding the #50 bus to and fro. In the morning, it's a breeze. The bus is almost always on time and well synced with my transit app. Going home, it's another story. My odds are about 100 to one. Often, I miss the bus by a mere 30 seconds, watching helplessly as it passes me at the busy intersection of Othello and MLK. By the time I make it across the street, the #50 is long gone--and the next bus is at least a half-hour away. I curse the ill-timed traffic light, shaking my head and gesticulating at the great injustice of it all as I begin my trek east.
There's a major heat-wave in Seattle right now, so my walk home on Friday was a hot one, even at 7:30 at night. I took it slow and steady, and tried to focus on the beauty of the plants along the way. Many sunflowers, asters and echinacea are still going strong or just starting to flower. The contrast between summer's late-bloomers and plants that are withered and brown makes me feel a little melancholy. I want to wrap my arms around summer and never let it go. Knowing that fall will soon arrive, I make my peace with the heat rising off the sidewalk. It's a classic late-summer evening, and the perfect opportunity to gather material for botanical sculptures that will one day hang in the store. I guess missing the bus has a major upside after all, though sometimes at the start of my journey it sure doesn't feel that way.