Dogs and I were having a stroll through Woodland Park today (not the zoo part, which wouldn’t have been as calm), and came upon one of the loveliest groves I’ve seen in a while. I don’t remember ever seeing it in the park before, but by the height of the trees it’s obviously been there for some time. I’m guessing that my chance encounter today was based largely on two things: 1) the unusual nature of our walk (leisurely) and 2) the unusual nature of the afternoon sky for Seattle this spring (mostly blue, with sun and fluffy clouds). We were meandering along, sniffing at things at the ends of our leashes (the dogs) and keeping, even in relative tranquility, an eagle eye out for other park-going dogs (me), when I looked up, and down the hill from me, in a cove of dappled sunlight, were several trees at the peak of frothy, pink-kissed bloom.
There were maybe half a dozen, 20 to 30 feet tall, interspersed irregularly over a fresh green lawn. Off down the hill behind the trees, grassy pathways curved into the shade of the evergreen stands. It was cool instead of cold in the bright air, quiet, utterly peaceful. What a perfect place for a wedding, I thought, picturing a young bride and groom shyly exchanging vows under the arching boughs. Then I amended my thought.
What a perfect place to be, I thought.