So it's been just one wonderful day here in Seattle, Washington. It was bright, clear, and sunny and people were out and about in pursuit of all kinds of Saturday adventures. Our day started 9 am at the Hotel Vintage Park. We woke up to the clean, crisp air that you only can get in Seattle. We had slept quite well in our superbly sheeted and pillowed wonderfully comfortable bed that is just one fabulous feature of this lovely, lovely hotel. We rolled over and dialed room service who appeared ten minutes later with a steaming tray of scrambled eggs, toasted bagels, hot coffee and cream. We showered and headed up the street to the Northwest Flower and Garden Show at the Washington State Convention and Trade Center.
There was a red-headed guy giving a drum concert on the street that was particularly cunning. He used upside down empty Costco detergent tubs and sat on a little waste basket as he pounded out a compelling and happy beat. He had three wine bottles poked into the side of an upside down milk crate that he used for melody. Really a good concert! People were out and running here and there, all smiling; my guess is that they were happy to be without umbrellas. Whatever the reason, the infectious mood of the street further inched our well being reading up the scale and left us with great anticipation.
We ducked into the convention center and rode up 4 floors to the cavernous exhibition hall. The show is well organized and was particularly pleasant this year, as there were very few strollers but honestly? just what has gardening become in Seattle? The exhibition gardens were the epitome of more money than sense. This year there were vintage cars in the gardens and people DANCING? Would Vita Sackville-West have settled for this nonsense? I think not.
The garden culture is so hip, so keen and so SO in Seattle that it's become a form over substance exercise with the tekkie billionaires fouling the koi pond, so to speak. With their contrived and gauche interpretations of how really rich people garden, this show gives you the impression that real gardening is about real consumerism. Let's be completely clear: the polished granite chaise lounges just didn't connect with me. Serious. Granite slabs hewn into the shape of chaise lounges and polished. Ah, god. The California people are completely at home with this type of embarrassment. I am praying that no one from Philadelphia or Boston was here to see this.
But the guy selling the lily bulbs was there as was a guy with rain barrels so all was not lost. Had wet burritos at Taco del Mar downstairs. Saw some killer quilts on the wall by the escalator. Saw the orchids. Still smiling from that. And yes, I did get a few, well maybe several, antique botanical prints. When I die there is going to be one hell of an auction.
And so now we'll walk in the soft, slightly bracing evening air and hope for a few stars. Later, we'll have dessert and sip champagne. Is there any other time or any other place other than this night and this place?