Garden of Seattle

Sunshine to the left, blue sky to the right while good sized white hail streaks downward
past the tall pines and the footlong garlic spears. April turns into May, the raindrops
keep falling amidst the starting of Seattle's spring baseball.
Old timers all of whom worked and danced with the waters and fishing industry in
some capacity lament the changing of the waterfront from maritime business to the
business of smiling at tourist. They oft lament the freeways that divided up the city and
the rollicking life when Seattle was a trading post for Alaska. They tell me it's all gone
including the fish that frolicked in the friendly waterways that weave through the
everyday life of the northwest.
The rains and grey skies have been frequent this spring and so the expressions
and complaints of darkness depression (accompanied by the corollary the sunshine will
bring great joy) in the conversations and psyche of many, except for an occasional
chill at the ballpark. I am not of that ilk , the grey and silver skies are soft on my eyes,
the rain washes away the days pollution much faster than a politician's promise, the
lush deep greens of the water soaked plant life breathes deeply of the healing power
of nature setting a clean rich canvas for the palette of the sun which popped out
gloriously in the afternoon as if beckoning me to the baseball park for the contest
between the local Mariners and the visiting Twins.
Equipped with sushi from the nearby Japanese grocery store,binoculars for the right
centerfield seat I enjoyed the first five innings with the sun miraculously shining upon
me. The remaining innings I wandered the stadium and bullpen areas experiencing
different angles and focuses to view the game and players. In the bottom of the 9th, I
found myself behind home plate as Griffey walked to the plate to pinch hit. The crowd
roared, tension mounted as the memory of the once dominant superstar seemed to rev
up expectations. Alas Griffey standing as majestic as ever in the batters box swung
with some grace but grounded into a fielders choice and then immediately was replaced
for a pinch runner. The mariners sustained no rally and lost the game. It turned out to be
Griffey's last at bat.
Announcing his retirement two days later Griffey packed his bags, quietly and quickly
fading out of town. I saw his first at bat and first home run for the Billingham Baby
Mariners and his last at bat as a Mariner. Quite a memorial day.

Baseball Painted by: Douglas Ira Berman
Photo by: Juliana Tobon