AFOOT IN SUBURBIA WITH PEN AND CAMERA

I felt a bit like a mad dog a couple of days ago.  The temperature hit 87 – and I reckon walking gets to be a bit of an ordeal when it’s hotter than 80 – but I’d promised myself a walk, and so a walk I had.  I wasn’t the only man on the street, but there weren’t many of us.

A midday walker (not me)

I was on my way to meet my pal Claire for lunch.  She has acquired a dog, not mad as far as I can tell, but it seems to have changed her life – and it has certainly changed the way she walks - both of which may have been intended.  She looked like this:

In fact my walk to lunch - about 3 miles - wasn’t quite as punishing as I expected. I walked through Los Feliz, an area that manages to be thoroughly suburban but also somehow exotic.  The agaves in front of the Lloyd Wright house were flowering, which look very fine though in fact flowering is a harbinger of doom: they flower and then they die.

Other cacti and succulents, these in a pot by the roadside, looked the worse for wear:

There was topiary:

And whatever this plant is:

And there was this tiled fountain on a street corner, which looked much like a public amenity, though in fact it’s right at the front edge of somebody’s garden.

And finally there was this fairly hilarious sign, one of several I saw, stuck to various uprights around the neighborhood:

I couldn’t tell if it was for real or some kind of performative tease and having been to the website I’m not a whole lot wiser.  Here’s how it looks on the website:

 Chuck seems an amusing enough feller, and I know a guy’s got to try to make a living, but $7 a mile – that’s $21 an hour – I mean, really.  But I do like the line about being forced to face thoughts of the unknown future and my own insignificance in the ever expanding universe.  Actually, you know, that’s pretty much the main reason why I walk.