Stop And Smell The Artichokes / by Akira Ohiso

A man sleeps on a mattress on the median of 14th Ave NW between parked cars. Later that day, he is seen bottomless, unaware that he is in his birthday suit. “Happy Birthday.”

The little library constantly gets refilled with books. These little wooden boxes are places for people to downsize their belongings, sometimes with books that should have been recycled.

I always peruse, but it's not often that the stars align. A few weeks ago, Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox intrigued me. The book is stacked on top of a Jenga-like pile on my nightstand.

The impulse to read the book fulfilled a mood and an aspirational journey at the time I am not committed to just yet. Perhaps the impulse knows more than I do about my future self. There will come a time when I will pick up that book to read because it's simply time.

I have a new interest in watching bees pollinate. The neighborhood has plenty of wildflowers, so I stop. The longer I stay, the more bees I notice moving from flower to flower.

Growing up, I was allergic to bee stings, and my parents had EpiPens when medical access was limited, like vacations to cabins and country inns. We often vacationed in New England - Cape Cod, Vermont, and Maine. Whenever I saw a Yellowjacket, I would panic like Jerry Lewis.

Several crows caw as I walk by, then fly from wire to roof to tree branch along my path. They lose interest and fly away after seeing that I am not a threat. I enjoy this daily interaction as long as they don't dive-bomb me, which they occasionally do during mating season when I get too close to a nest.

An artist is installing a new exhibit in the Das Shaufenster gallery window. There is no inside gallery, just the window, which is always on view -24/7. It is a unique neighborhood feature, but I wonder if residents appreciate the art.

A young man with AirPods on seem to ignore everything and everyone around him. It's a nuisance for him to remove his AirPods when someone talks to him. “What was that?” he say, pulling one AirPod out.

“Good morning.”

“Oh, good morning,” slightly perturbed that his podcast was interrupted.

Stop and smell the artichokes.