Peek-a-boo; I see trees…glorious, glorious trees. And they are everywhere in San Francisco! OK, so maybe there aren’t so many on Taraval Street, but I do take great pride in this whole backyard thing we’ve got going on in the Outer Sunset. And I must say, it’s a whole other world out here in the Avenues than it is in downtown San Francisco. Having grown up in New York City where my bedroom window overlooked a hard, grey, lifeless alley, I am really getting into experiencing these soft, green, living beings that never sway the same way twice in the salty Ocean Beach breeze… OK wind…OK torrential wind, depending on the season.
I admit that living out here took some getting used to. In Manhattan I was lulled (oddly enough) to sleep by sirens, car alarms, and that on-again off-again couple who would either be cursing or sloppily making out. It took me a good year or so to get used to the still and quiet. And at first, it was frightening! The thing of horror flicks. I expected Freddy, Jason, or even little, well-dressed twins to appear at any given moment in this suburban alcove of greater San Francisco. Once I got used to the peaceful nature of this community (and watched fewer movies), I noticed that there was, most definitely, movement and noise, albeit on a different decibel.
There’s the “L” train that can be heard in the distance, the creaking of a rusted swing set next door, that tsunami evacuation drill on Tuesdays at noon, those red-tailed hawks swooping across yards to look for gophers, that dude across the block who practices for his DJ gigs, the Australian Shepherds who are trying to get to know one another through fences, the crash of a white capped wave, and those trees, brushing leaves against one another like crickets. Ahhhh… to revel in the joys of suburban city life!