It's only about a mile into my routine walk/run, and I never stop here. A little spot 20 feet off the main trail that juts out into Town Lake. It's a cozy place, with an ornate steel gazebo and trellises covered with vines, a molded concrete bench, and 3 levels of rock steps leading to the water. For the last week or so, it's been completely covered, overhead and sides, with wisteria -- I can smell it around the bend before getting there. Today was a strange spring weather day, rainy and windy, but a strong wind blew all the gray away, and led to an amazing 75 degree sunny afternoon. So as I walk past this little spot, the scent steers me towards it, and I notice the wind and rain had done its job -- the floor of this spot is a blanket of purple blooms. No one is there, so I walk over, gingerly, as if mom had just done the vacuum and I didn't want to disturb the pattern. The angle of the afternoon sun made everything in the little spot glow yellow-orange, and there's an intense green burst in everything from the rain. I stood there, marveling at my luck at having this place to myself.
Why had I not stepped in before?
A plaque on the rock wall says Opossum Temple and Voodoo Pew, steel and concrete. The fat wisteria vines tangle themselves around the structure, and burst into purple and white that rains blossoms on me whenever another wind blows. And the scent...ahhh, lovely. Someone else would discover this soon. All the people getting off work, heading out for a run, putting the babies in strollers...others would come. And it wouldn't be the same. The quiet, the ducks not paying any attention to me would soon have dogs and loaves of bread stirring them up. The purple blanket would soon be trampled. The brilliant color still existing in the blooms will turn to brown. And the scent, especially, has all too brief of a season. Ah, spring!
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