The downstairs neighbor's car windows were still open.
It was 7am on a Sunday morning and I don't know, for the life of me, what I was doing awake that early, besides waiting for the Hollywood and Vine farmer's market to open, but I’m glad I was awake or I might have missed it.
A strange noise, like a parade of tap dancing elves taking over the residential street. A disconcerting feeling of correctness overtaking my entire being. Something special and simple and easy to miss if you are sleeping like the rest of the neighborhood is at this hour.
Just me on the sidewalk. And that guy being walked by his dog. And the local recycling man with his shopping cart, personally going through every dumpster to collect any CA deposit beverage containers that might have been inadvertently thrown away. He had just jumped out of the dumpster behind my house and we made eye contact as we both headed to the street.
I always remember that I am the ultimate water proof container. It just slides off of my skin and I don't even rust or short out or anything.
I walked around the block and felt like the banana tree, suddenly so much prouder, so optimistic and swollen - every pour opening up to absorb this goodness which brigns me out to the street. We have both been waiting over three months for this. We have both been covered in greasy film from the LA streets, we've both been feeling a bit dry.
I think of gardening in Hollywood like a package of instant oatmeal; "just add water."
The sprinklers still sputtered two manicured lawns down the block. The downstairs neighbor's car windows were still open. It didn't matter much, though, because me and the banana tree didn't get even enough rain to wash off or feel clean. The July rain was less like a shower and more like a ... parade of tap dancing elves. On a very short holiday. With very little stamina. Over before it began.
But there was a rainbow. And now it is 8am. Farmer's market ready for business.
Tap Dancing Elves
Hollywood, CA
Hollywood, CA
July 23, 2006
4 Comments:
You are bizzare.
And that's a good thing.
The rain is an awesome thing.
Especially in the woods at dusk or dawn.
The trees speak.
The ground breaths out fresh smells.
The wind blows the droplets across one's face.
It is a joy parting the lips to taste the freshness from high above all this that is below the clouds.
The rolling deep grumbles of thunder shake one to soul of the power around us.
The lighting temporarily blinds us but yet it's arcs are etched into our minds.
The rain is a good thing.
The rain on your shoulders, little girl,
has it come to clear your mind?
Has it come to cleanse the past - at last -
the rain, little girl, why's it here?
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