Taking a walk through my childhood neighborhood, Glendale, is a gift for my soul.
I have missed the fragrance of Jasmine, Eucalyptus, and the sharp smell of Citrus and Orange Blossoms; the bright geraniums, and birds of paradise and the delicate roses that grace the winter in southern California.
I have missed the grassy palms, some so tall and thin their round lollipop heads tower over the neighborhood. I missed the scrubby rolling foothills so dry, sage and brown against the aqua-blue sky. A foothill neighborhood tucked in the vast sprawl of Los Angeles.
I have missed the fragrance of Jasmine, Eucalyptus, and the sharp smell of Citrus and Orange Blossoms; the bright geraniums, and birds of paradise and the delicate roses that grace the winter in southern California.
I have missed the grassy palms, some so tall and thin their round lollipop heads tower over the neighborhood. I missed the scrubby rolling foothills so dry, sage and brown against the aqua-blue sky. A foothill neighborhood tucked in the vast sprawl of Los Angeles.
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