Green Lake rambling

"The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la."
--The Mikado

Three weeks ago, I was still trudging through the snow in hiking boots, bravely exploring the winter wonderland of the Arboretum.  Yesterday, I joined the throngs tripping lightly through the budding flowers of spring (tra la) in Green Lake Park.  Hoping that they offered promise "of a summer of roses and wine."  (Tra la)

The weather remained rather chilly, actually, as it is again today, but the sun was out, the sky was blue (there was not a cloud to spoil the view).  The walk around the lake, about three miles, always draws a nice weekend crowd in the summer, but rarely so many as were out yesterday.

Seattle walkers were unable to decide exactly what season we had attained.  Many were wearing the same ski parkas that they wore while making snow men three weeks ago.  Others --  usually runners rather than walkers -- were out in shorts and t-shirts.  I compromised, wearing jeans and a fleece layer.

They came in all ages, shapes, and sizes  -- young kids on small bikes, babies in strollers, lovers holding hands, men arguing politics or finance, young women "power walkers," flocks of teenagers chattering excitedly, grandmothers (some walking briskly, some slowly with canes).

And me.

I had started out walking from my house to the UW, felt ambitious and walked past the university all the way to Green Lake, and then circumnavigated the lake.  I even then still felt ambitious, but felt that caution was warranted so early in the season.  I took the bus back to Husky Stadium, and then walked the final mile back to my house.  Total miles walked was 8.1, according to my iPhone, which is a fair distance for a hike that began with much less ambition in mind.

I wish I could say that the flowers were in bloom (tra la), but our late season snow delayed what had promised to be an early spring.  There were crocuses, there were primroses, and there were some brave daffodils.  Other species will soon be forthcoming, but had not yet come forth.

The trees were still gaunt and leafless.

But the sun felt warm, when I wasn't in the shade, and everyone looked happy.  We didn't merrily dance and sing (tra la), although we wanted to -- we are Scandinavians up in these parts, after all.

But we did venture tentative smiles at each other as we passed.  Then looked away quickly, lest we be misunderstood.