My Favorite Street

I think that my favorite street is Park Street. It is a one-way, one block long street that I prefer when going to the store. It bypasses the big hill and Tourist Trap Street, where visitors buy crap they don't need and can't really afford. Nor have room for, which I have heard from the confessional. Well not really the confessional. I heard it over and over while dusting at the Wood Merchant, where I work four hours a week. I know, not much of a job, but they let me drink water and I get to look at good furniture.
Sorry I got distracted. Park Street has some cool stuff. There are ducks in the back yard of one house. The ducks have their own kiddie swimming pool. No, they don't wear bikinis and sunglasses, you are thinking of another, hipper, gaggle. Sliding Rock lurks off park street, I've written about it in another vignette. If you remember, it is a butt-polished black and mossy rock, about the size of a part-buried Volkswagon. The littler kids maintain its' sheen. Right there, behind it is a large garden, a real jewel in La Conner. It must be about two houses worth, which I bet just get the Real Estate Speculators in a swoon. I'm in a swoon about it and dream of a big garden like that. It is somebodys' labor of love, let me tell you. I often see the gardener putzing around in it. I wave to him and he gives me a toothy smile in return.
Next, is Snapdragon Hill which sports gone-wild snapdragons. They seed themselves or live a long life, I don't know. Judging by how beautiful they are and that nobody waters or fertilizes them, I surmise that snapdragons are damn near as impervious to climatic insults as, say, dandelions. Actually, come to think of it, the snapdragons I planted last year made it through the cold and are singing: "We are the champions," in my garden. Them and swiss chard, two tough cookies. Swiss chard will grow in gravely paths. No need for compost or babysitting. Mary Hedlin told me that the snapdragons have been on that hill for over forty years. The Hill has steep sides on Park Street, like mini cliffs and a Madrone tree grows precariously at the top edge. It is reminiscent of sea-side cliffs. At the base of the hill is a cordon of well established blackberries that are going to be ripe soon. I'm thinking another week till I have Blackberry juice. Yep, I look at them every day. Making my mouth water thinking about it.