Last weekend we visited my mom in Redding. Most times we visit the Sundial Bridge. It’s a wildly romantic location, plus we like to take pictures with the chicken.
We have a growing photo album. To folks who haven’t been to Turtle Bay, they have a renowned bridge that has a giant spike at the end that serves as a sundial.
The underneath of the bridge is lighted, with blue-ish glass that looks like the reflection of water.
We have one photo of Tommy holding the chicken and splayed out with his arms and legs looking like an X.
We have another photo of one of the security guards holding the chicken and smiling. That was the night they had a swing band and Tommy and I danced outside without paying for admittance.
Last weekend when we visited we passed by the usual host of semi-drunken teenagers. There was also a group of about five black-clad teens talking about the latest video games and what characters they liked best.
We like hearing what we call “snippets,” which are just a few seconds of conversation that briefly take you into someone’s world, without totally eavesdropping.
There was a German Wim Wenders film called “Wings of Desire” (black and white and in subtitles) that had a character who was an angel. There’s a 17-minute scene where the angel walks around and hears people’s thoughts. The people are musing in their minds about different things, such as worrying about money or whether they should talk to their daughter about something important or whether their relationship with their spouse needs work. In the film, you just get a “snippet,” but have insight into their world.
Walking along the Sundial Bridge in Redding is like that — “snippets.”
This time, there was a din in the distance. It sounded like people partying and maybe playing a boom-box.
As we were walking across the river, we saw a very nicely-dressed couple. At first I thought it was a couple who were coming or going from a prom. It was about 11 p.m.
As we approached, we could see it was a bride and groom. We stopped to congratulate them. I told the bride that she looked gorgeous (which she did). Tommy told the groom he looked very handsome. They were gushing, and we deciphered they were taking a romantic break from their party off in the distance.
We kept walking and then Tommy and I turned to each other in unison and said “chicken.”
We had my mom’s camera for the occasion and backtracked and asked the bride and groom if they would pose with the chicken.
This delighted them. They shared that they had a traveling mascot with whom they snapped photos on their travels.
(Will post the photo on my blog once Mom gets it processed).
The only regret is that we did not get their e-mail address to send it to them. It likely would have been their favorite photo in their wedding album.
After we mashed face on the other end of the river, we walked back to the car and ran into the security guard who we had snapped the photo with chicken a few months back. Understandably, he remembered us. It’s not often you are requested to pose for a photo with a rubber chicken.
Garden mayhem
About a month ago, my co-worker Sally brought me a bunch of her leftover seeds that she wasn’t going to plant. Some of them are dated 2005, 2006, etc.
I planted them all over the yard somewhat sporadically, figuring that if they didn’t grow, who cared?
Now some are popping up. I have zinnias and squash, cucumbers and peppers. The only problem is, it’s difficult to tell if these are the seeds I planted or weeds. We’re trying to keep the weeds out and being diligent so they don’t get out of control.
A few of the seeds I marked with the seed packet upside-down on a twig. But many others I just put into the ground.
Dunno what to do at this point except just wait and see how they develop.
Speaking of weeds
Funny how you can plant something years ago, on purpose, mind you, and then get sick of it in later years.
I currently have a hatred for four-o’clocks. They were nice the first year. Yet, they drop seed like confetti. The past few years I’ve been attempting to eradicate them. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, I know what the sprouts look like so I can easily kill them when I see their once-lovely, and now-ugly heads.
Beauty, ah ... always in the eye of the beholder.
