Wildflowers.Van Lierop Park. Puyallup, Washington.
The dogs and I walked the trail that weaves amongst the wildflowers of the new Van Lierop Park.
Swallows flew overhead, fifty or sixty of them, chattering, chasing one another, eating insects. They would swoop down within inches of us. They would dive toward the ground and pull up with inches to spare. They would fly over nearby fields of lettuce and rhubarb and gourds and then return to fly over fields of wildflowers.
The wildflowers called for their photos to be taken. Adore our simple beauty they taunted. We marveled at lupine and California poppies and daisies and the volunteers of wild rhubarb escaped from the rigid rows of their farmed siblings.
The smell of recent rain still lingered in the air. The dampness clung to stalks of grass and Banjo's belly as it caressed them.
We took our time making our way. We let the impatience slowly bleed out of us and into the culverts and bioswales. We spoke aloud our angers and let them disappear on the whispers of wind, stolen by the beaks of songbirds flitting above us.
