Richmond BART

Bright & early this morning, I drove a friend to Kaiser Richmond for an Unpleasant Procedure. I had a good chunk of time after bringing her in, so, naturally, I went out for a walk.

Right away, shiny signs pointed the way to BART. For all my years riding the Richmond line, I’d never seen the Richmond station, so I followed the signs past the Hacienda Grill & a beautiful old deco post office, & then through a new-looking affordable-housing village. When I came to the station, it, too, looked surprisingly new—freshly remodeled in the shape of a ship, to evoke the WWII shipyards that transformed Richmond.

All surfaces gleamed as if just painted, & in fact the parking lot was still very much under construction. I thought a picture including both the shiny ship station & the parking lot construction would be nice, but the light was all wrong for that, & my potential photographer for that shot turned out to have not just a phone in one hand, but a cigarette in the other.

There was hardly anyone around; we were between trains. Fortunately Photographer #2, a bored kid with a skateboard, was standing in the right place for a parking lot shot. I could not get a good read on his ethnicity, but “Middle Eastern” would seem to cover it. (Many competing ideas & acronyms exist for naming that region of the world; SWANA appears to have gained some traction but I never hear it in casual conversation, even in the PC crowd I run with.)

I wondered why he turned the camera vertical. Because I asked for a photo of myself & I’m vertical? I’d sort of hoped for a wide horizontal shot that would include part of the housing complex, but that wasn’t the moment to change my rule about letting photographers compose their own shots.

After that, I wandered further, eyes peeled for the Chinese restaurant that I knew must be nearby. I found it.

Eggs

I found today’s photographer leaning against his bike right next to the photogenic eggs. Since it’s egg season & all, I thought it appropriate to ask him for a picture with eggs.

It took me a long time to get clued into egg season, so if you’re thinking “what? egg season?” let me share the knowledge: chickens slow down their laying significantly in the winter, sometimes stopping altogether. They start laying again in the spring, hence Easter eggs—so pagan! Just in time for matzo brei, too, of course.

I leave it to you to ponder what gnarly things are done in the name of keeping eggs in the supermarket all year round, with no winter dip in supply.

Speaking of spring, I’m still wearing my winter coat in this picture, but I had to take it off soon after—I could feel the temperature rising, degree by degree, as I stood picking out asparagus tips.

Zachary’s

There is always someone waiting outside Zachary’s, & for good reason. I didn’t happen to eat there today, though… just passing by while running errands.

Bakesale Betty

Bakesale Betty has really figured out how to keep the lunchtime crowd moving through so the wait is quick & painless; by the time my photographer finished his two quick shots, we were holding up the line. Oops, sorry! Of course, since we were all bathed in the vortex of Betty’s goodwill, nobody seemed to mind, everyone was cheerful.

Unlike the post office, where I went next. There the wait was glacial & everyone was cranky. I was almost afraid to bust out my sandwich. I had visions of being attacked by a pack of hungry, ferocious postal patrons who would rip away bites of my sandwich until there was nothing left.

(Of course nothing like that happened at all. I ate my sandwich & people merely remarked—not without envy—that I sure had come prepared.)

Peonies

I was plodding up the street on my way home from a funeral, pondering fatherhood, grief, & other heavy topics, when lo & behold, there were my neighbors’ peonies exploding with pink joy. My mood did an instant 180 & I eagerly stuck my face in one to smell it.

Coming back up, I spied my photographer walking two large dogs toward me, & asked if she would take my picture with the flowers.

“Sure! They’re beautiful!”

“They’re peonies,” I cooed, more to the blossoms than to her, as she maneuvered the leashes into one hand.

“Did you move here recently?” she asked.

“No, actually, I’ve lived on this block for twenty years,” I answered, wondering if that had any bearing on why someone might ask a stranger to take their picture. Recent arrival ≈ tourist?

She explained herself, though: she wondered if living here for a long time decreased the enchantment with our lovely gardens & flowers.

“Oh, no, I’ve lived in the Bay Area all my life & I’m still like…” I waved my arms ecstatically & made a flower-crazed face.

This answer obviously pleased her, so I asked if she had moved here recently herself.

Yes, in January—from Buffalo!

“Ah,” I replied with new understanding, “the most dramatic month to move here! When Buffalo is all frozen…”

Yes, yes, she nodded emphatically; she had been nearly delirious with plant appreciation upon arrival, & was worried that she would eventually become jaded. I assured her this was most definitely not the case.

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This post is dedicated to the memory of Adolphus Wong, who also loved to walk outside among flowers & talk to strangers. Rest in peace, uncle.

Tulips & ranunculus

The flower stand at the farmers market was so totally seductive that I pretty much lost my mind & ended up with a whole armful of tulips. So here I am with my little zucchini seedling & flowers! flowers! flowers!

“Very sunny,” commented my photographer.