Now that the weather’s nicer, most evenings I’ve been taking stupid little walks for my stupid mental health through my neighborhood and others nearby. Can you believe this shit hole?
JUST KIDDING THIS PLACE IS GORGEOUS!!!
I!!! mean!!! Look at these Secret Garden-ass vibes! They’re like a dream. Or a French landscape painting. Which: same fucking thing!!! Exquisite. Delicious. I can’t believe I live here???????? (I don’t live in one of these gorgeous houses with a gorgeous yard. I live a few blocks away, in a century-old apartment with terrible curb appeal and that’s literally falling apart at its seams.)
I am endlessly impressed by the organized chaos of these English garden yards. So lush. So diverse. The colors and textures and shapes and height and depth—a giant shot of happy hormones straight to my brain.
How much do you think yards like this cost to get going and then maintain? The houses in these neighborhood are (each) valued at more than a small nation’s GDP. The yards? I’m going with: All of our salaries combined.
Can we please take several minutes to talk about how the colors of nature on the west coast are unrivaled. Borderline unreal. LOOK AT HOW PRETTY! Everything’s so vibrant and saturated. The rest of the country looks perpetually jaundiced in comparison.
This is the time of year that I usually spend a lot of time training outside. Not this year. I’m still too injured. I’m still limited to two hours in the gym per week (down from three or more hours per day, five to six days per week). And I’m still pretty limited in what I can do during those two hours in the gym.
These stupid little walks help offset my ~thoughts and feelings~ about that. Plus, they get my body moving, and they get me out of my apartment and into the world—without having to socialize or spend money or increase my risk of catching COVID, which: bonus, bonus, bonus.
My two youngest kids are coming to stay with me for the rest of the summer—we fly back to Portland from DC today—and, cue the cheese and cringe and cliché, I cannot wait to share this place, and these walks, with them.