And Back To Our Regular Programming

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Sack o’ Peas!

Frozen sack of peas, mind you, but a bag of peas none the less.

You know it’s been a day when you are actively fantasizing about getting home to put the leg up in the air and throw down some frozen vegetables on it.

Not sure what was up but it was a sore one today.

I went slow.

I swear I did.

I took the boys to the Golden Gate Community Gardens and we just wandered around the boxes looking at the plants and literally stopping to smell the roses.

We saw, in no particular order, giant Fava beans, sugar snap peas, snow peas, Echinacea, chamomile blooms, dill, rosemary, mint, teeny tiny cherry tomatoes, zucchini, squash blossoms, lavender, red lettuce, curly-headed lettuce, golden chard, regular chard, red chard, broccoli just beginning to bloom, radishes, gigantic leeks, strawberries, kale, lot of kale actually, every plot seemed to have some.

There were also wild flowers and nasturtiums, and Queen Anne’s Lace, and geraniums, petunia’s, violet, wood violets and African violets, lots of roses, and last but not least, especially in the boys minds, pinwheels.

They had a merry old-time just blowing pinwheels.

It was the perfect kind of morning to meander through the gardens.

They just recently opened and there was only a solo worker there who waved us right in when I asked if we could walk through and enjoy the plants.

I rather wanted to pick some of the plants, one strawberry plot was so rich and heavily laden with berries it seemed wrong to not pluck any off the plants, but I discouraged the boys, and myself, from touching anything with our hands.

Instead we practiced, “touching with our eyes,” and though I will admit I did take a little tiny leaf of mint from a peppermint bush, we left without disturbing any of the plants.

It was a sweet, serene, walk to the park, the evergreens along Kezar stadium flagrant with fragrance, my eldest boy scooped up fistfuls of evergreen needles and pine cones as we strolled, and then we came over to the Kezar Triangle park that was newly renovated a few months back and the entire thing was empty.

I fed the boys snacks on the bench carved out of a gigantic piece of redwood and then let them run amok in the grass while I hobbled behind.

The fields were fragrant and still damp from the morning dew, the fresh-cut grass sticking to all of our shoes, but the smell.

Oh so good.

And I don’t know what plant or pairing of plants that were planted in the border gardens but it smelled heavenly, like thick just harvested honeycomb in the sun rich and sweet.

I could taste it on my tongue and I just wanted to sit there all day.

San Francisco is a lush, sweet, intoxicating smelling place (not always because people are walking around openly smoking pot either), jasmine and sweet grass, honeysuckle, buckets of lavender growing in so many yards and porches and stoops.

The Charles Grimaldi trees, the little trees that have the gigantic golden bell blooms that look like faerie hats, all the citrus trees–lime, Meyer lemon, oranges, tangerines, then the plum trees–that for many years I mistook for cherry trees-and the Eucalyptus (which though not a native species is still such a fragrant and deeply intoxicating smell to me that I never fail to indulge with deep breath when I am in the Pan Handle Park and the leaves are dropping from the trees in showers of scent) proliferating in the parks.

It was a good smells kind of day.

I always think that good smells presage good fortune.

Today I felt fortunate.

To have a good job with little boys who I love and I can say pretty truthfully, love me.

Same goes for my little girl Thursday who we ran into yesterday at the carousel in the Koret Children’s Playground in Golden Gate Park, such a peach, I love hearing her say my name.

I love whenever they get to that point.

The littlest monkey doesn’t have my name down yet, but I get the love, the snuggles, the laughter, the silly faces and the goofy boy antics that crack me up.

He has recently taken to walking around with his eyes squinched shut until he bumps into something.

It is the goofiest little game.  It’s rather as though he’s time travelling or something.

He walks in a relatively straight line, for an 18 month old boy who just recently mastered walk (God, I remember when I was swaddling him for naps and he couldn’t crawl yet!), hands slightly out in front, eyes shut, until he can’t help but open his eyes to see what amazing surprise awaits him.

He usually gasps in glee.

It’s quite a sight.

Poor thing bonked into a door though, an hour before pick up, smack, with his head.

It was almost like watching a stand up comedian slapstick hit himself, except, he really did bonk his head a good one.

I tried to not laugh, but a giggle might have escaped me.

On our way back from the park I swung into American Cyclery to talk with Tyson about my playa cruiser and where we stand with it.

He’s had it for a while, but knowing that I was going to Burning Man, and knowing when Burning Man is (oh my god I leave in a month–leaving San Francisco the morning of August 15th, a Friday to Reno, overnight in Reno, then landing on playa early to mid afternoon on the 16th, eep!) he’s not gotten about to it.

And he wasn’t in the shop, having taken his first vacation in 3 years.

But the guy at the register assured me my bike was safe and Tyson was on it.

Although he admitted he didn’t think he’d touched it much since I had dropped it off.

Tyson will be back next week and I will use that as an excuse to walk over to Kezar and smell the grand smells of this beautiful city I am blessed to get to live in.

Today felt really good for that.

Grace.

Love.

Gratitude.

Being taken care of.

Despite myself.

Getting to be a conduit for the good stuff.

All the things.

She told me.

You deserve all the things.

Especially if they smell good.

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