We were in Seattle over the weekend helping a friend move from an apartment to a sweet little house she just bought.
Joelle’s family members and friends met at her apartment, where we trekked up and down the stairs carrying boxes of books and furniture and rocks. Joelle is a hiker and traveler and she collects rocks--not specimen rocks (granite or quartz or obsidian) but friend-rocks (the shape of this one is pleasing, the color of that one is amazing.) If you can’t keep up with Joelle on a hike, you know you are in sorry shape because her pack probably weighs 10 or 20 pounds more than yours does, owing to the friends she has collected throughout the day.
We loaded Joelle’s stuff into our personal vehicles and into a truck she had rented, then everyone headed to the new house. I was the first to arrive there and had some time to myself to walk around. I knew nearly immediately that Joelle had picked a good place, a place where she’d very comfortably settle-in. Like Joelle, the previous owner had apparently been an animal-lover (wood on the back deck has been used as a scratching-post by a cat, so that a couple of the posts, once rectangular, are now hourglass-shaped) and the flowers planted in the yard are simple but very beautiful. I spent a few quiet moments there alone photographing the bleeding hearts. When everyone else arrived, I was feeling quite content. My friend has found a good home.
