There is only one large mature wisteria in the neighborhood that I know of. It is for sure wisteria on the flower clock. A couple of days back I braved a sunbreak and went down to take pictures. Way back when, in 2008, when I started wandering around this neighborhood on my lunch breaks, I came across this old beat-up house where an obvious cat hoarder lived.
Within a year or so, the older woman who lived there (who was big on gardening and had a wild but well-tended garden in her parking strips on both sides of her corner house) had barricaded off a lot of access to the house and it was rare that I would see a thin cat. She had beautiful irises out front and some roses and a tomato plant or two and this wisteria growing next to the house and out over a rundown arbor thing built over the sidewalk.
It was kind of magical. That was the wisteria I went to see. This year the structure over the sidewalk is gone and the wisteria has been cut back significantly but if one stands across the street one can see it fanning out across the porch roof. The part next to the house looks worse for wear but is still blooming. The whole house is boarded up, all the windows, with no trespassing signs around.
The back hedge which was well over six feet tall has been cut back, the back stairs are gone and the whole area here in the picture behind the blue house has been cleared. The newly, brilliantly restored yellow orange house is next door. I took the picture to show the exposed brickwork of this house from the 1880’s probably. I will need to look it up. I love this picture.
What is old is new again and what is old is fading away under its weight.
Off to the left, out of frame is a house with three of the biggest bird feeders I have ever seen in my life hanging in front of an upstairs window. Someone with limited mobility most likely lives in that room.
This neighborhood is a living poem. Full of poignant moments and lessons to take to heart.
I am grateful to be here.