The red fence
The hill is steep (this is LA). But the cross-streets are not. (Is that a paradox?) It’s almost as if you might be able to circumvent the hill by walking along the cross streets and weaving up the steps that lead to the houses above, but then you’d be trespassing.
The succulents
Succulents abound here – I try not to envy the weather of other places because I live where I live for a reason, but, as a plant person, it’s hard not to yearn for a climate where succulents grow with abandon, almost like weeds. I say almost, because as someone who cannot seem to keep more than a singular potted aloe alive, I could never consider a succulent a weed.
The fence
With the steep streets come elevated front stoops and yards. Maybe there are yards up there, or maybe there aren’t; it’s hard to tell. On one corner of the steep street, there is a curved brick wall, taller than my head (which stands 5 feet high, for reference). On top of the wall is a picket fence, painted red.
Succulents drape themselves between and below the fence, hanging down like a plump, green curtain, squeezing through every available opening. (Can curtains be plump?) I stop, taking in the sight and imagining a rock wall in my garden overflowing with something similar. Too bad for Canadian winters!
The breath
Steep streets are cause for much panting and wheezing. Thank goodness, then, for corner succulents, which give us something to look at while we catch our breath.
