We walked the Los Angeles County Arboretum
yesterday,
which took us through
plantings from the tropics,
Africa,
Australia.
There was an herb garden,
perennial garden,
bamboo forest,
greenhouse full of orchids,
pond with fish and birds
and turtles,
a raised bed vegetable garden
and chicken coop.
A Field of Day Lilies
Raised Bed Vegetable Garden,
Chicken Coop to the right
From the highest point—
a pond full of lilies
and the top of a waterfall—
we could see the San Gabriel Mountains.
We watched lizards,
the water animals,
peacocks (one having an argument with a stone;
another trying to figure out its reflection on a window).
We marveled at the flowers
and the trees.
There were so many amazing trees.
Most everything was abloom.
Some plants were drooping
and needed water,
which probably won’t be coming as rain;
then we found the sprinklers.
The air is glorious,
the sun—
after the marine layer lifts mid-morning—
faithful
and kind.
When I arrived at Union Station
I talked for awhile
with a woman who had started her life
in Pawnee, Oklahoma (!)
but spent most of it in Los Angeles.
She was returning that very day—
moving back—
from a few years in the south,
tending to family matters.
She was relieved.
I asked why
and she talked about how everything is close
in L.A.,
and she talked about the weather.
As we sat outside a busy train station
on a busy day (“Friday in L.A.!” she said.)
watching many people
(One man was riding a bicycle backwards.)
I kept looking toward
the palm trees that raise the eyes to the
cloudless blue sky;
I kept consciously
breathing in the cool/warm air.
There is always that possibility—
maybe in an arboretum,
maybe at a busy, peopled place—
to make the connection,
to be aware
of the natural world
that is our home.
