Walk in the hood

For some reason, I woke up fairly early this morning with a strong sense of wanderlust. To sate my need, I grabbed my trusty camera and went on a walkabout through my new hood. What follows is a photo journal of my journey into the heart of Mt. Scott.


After hastily dressing, I grabbed my camera (forgetting the telephoto lens) and dashed out the door. I didn't even make it to the end of the driveway before realizing I had neglected to grab any breakfast to fuel my quest. And then this lonely plum caught my attention.



After snapping a photo of it, I devoured the plum and then filled the top portion of my camera bag with several more, though not the weird looking one at the bottom of the above picture.



Growing just beneath the plum tree was this flower. Not sure what kind it is, but I liked it enough to take a photo of it.



After leaving the house, I wound my way down the road, past a church, over a creek and through the woods. I was thinking to myself that it really is a shame that my side of the mountain was so choked with houses and parks when the wooded areas seemed so untouched and pristine, and then I saw this. Just through the treeline, man was advancing on what was left of the forest like an army, hellbent on destruction. I call this photo "Barbarians at the gate".



I started to weave my way down to the edge of the tree's but was stopped short by a fence that was covered in barbed wire and long gleaming coils of razor wire. It's amazing the lengths men will go to, to keep the untamed things at bay.








Despite all of mans effort to beat down the wild things, I found a surprising number of cool things growing amidst the razor wire fencing.


My mind was pondering big picture things and I started wondering if this is what God had intended... for man to fear and destroy all the wild places in the world and then I found this. Of course it was just a hasty repair job but on a morning saturated with silence and deep thoughts, it sure seemed like God hiding in the details to me.


A little ways down the fence, I found this license plate laying abandoned in the pine needles and it reminded me that I wasn't the first person to invade this sacred place. Here was a sign of those who came before.





And is this broken toy a sign that the woods had won a battle or a metaphor for youth shattered by war. More than likely it means that some kid will be nagging his dad to buy him a new weapon to replace the one lost in his last great adventure, but hey, this is a deep thoughts kind of morning...






Despite the broken pistol and the license plate, the area along the fence was fairly free of the sort of garbage one typically finds on the edge of the world. There was this old newspaper probably tossed out the window of a passing car, up the hill. It now lay limp and lifeless, waiting to be reclaimed by the earth. A dieing monument to old news.














The fence finally turned away from my path and I found myself behind a church and on the edge of the largest cemetery I had ever seen. What struck me as odd was how amazing it smelled. At first I thought there must be some tree that was giving the area such a fresh, clean smell but then I saw a little blue paper pine tree at me feet and understood. Air freshener, that's why it smells good outside.



After wandering around the cemetery for an hour or so, and meeting an old man with a grey beard and a walking stick (named Gary Odin) who wouldn't let me take his picture (note; I had just read an article on the gray bearded walking stick wielding Norse god the night before, so this was a profound meeting), I found this tombstone. You tell me.









Up the way from the cemetery, I found the skeletal remains of an old brick house with a cobbled drive. At the end of the drive I found this mail box. I wonder if it knows that the house to which it belonged is no longer? Still, it waits ever hopeful that one day a shadow will fall across it and lovingly place in its gaping maw, some correspondence long overdue.









I had exhausted my remaining plums sitting by the mailbox and so was very glad to find a raspberry bush at the top of the hill. Ber... that's IKEA for berry.



After staining my finger tips and lips red, the rain started to fall and I decided it was high time I found a path back down the mountain towards home. Along the way I found a small garden filled with these pink flowers. Not sure what they are, but they smelled pretty good in the rain.



Just down from the garden, I found a dirt path the paralleled a creek that I was pretty sure was the same one that ran through my new yard. Just a few feet down the path, I found this squash plant growing up every tree and shrub that would give it purchase. I'm going to have to come back here in a month or so to collect the fruits of its labor.


About a mile down the winding creek path, I found a small trail that I followed to this well hidden homeless camp at the bottom of a narrow ravine. Amazing that on a mountain that is nearly chocked with million dollar homes with Maserati's and Ferrari's in the driveways, there are people living in tents and dreaming of the luxuries that most of us take for granted. At first I wanted to wait around for the owner to return so I could meet him/ her and chat about whatever they wanted but in the end, I took this photo and left like a ghost on the mist. In no time, I hiked and slid my way down the hillside and ended up in my backyard.
Next time I will bring the telephoto and try to get even deeper into the arteries of this new place I call home.