On Friday, before I headed down to the Convention Center for the librarians conference, I touched up my black boots with a little heel & edge polish I found in my brother & sister-in-law’s closet. Somehow it made me think of the words to this old Stephen Stills’ song, Johnny’s Garden:
And I’ll do anything I got to do
Cut my hair and shine my shoes
And keep on singin’ the blues
If I can stay here, in Johnny’s garden
And I kinda got a little lump in my throat.
Saturday morning after I packed and stripped the bed and threw the sheets & towels into the washing machine, before I called the Lyft to take me to the hotel downtown, I took the dog for a foggy walk and said farewell to the neighborhood, and her and the house.
Sati waiting patiently for me to make my coffee and feed her and take her for a walk
Another shot of those apples, this time in the fog
Fog looking down 32nd Street
Tree arch on the other side of the street
View out the bedroom window – featuring all the construction equipment. Not much digging going on, but a lot of diggers.
And that little lump in my throat came back. Oh well, like I’ve been telling friends here, this has been my longest visit to Seattle, but it surely NOT my last. Knock wood.