My ride has become a quest for shady streets, for the shady side of the streets, for the shortest streets with no shade. My old summer routes seek out my bike wheels. Byways beckon, some of which the old routes acquire, others I'll never see again. Meandering, I loop through shaded parking lots, edge shadow-cooled walks: a drift toward peripheries.
I spotted Gill's beloved frangipani on a recent ride; that means it's in bloom all over the city. I set out this afternoon to see if I could find any nice ones in the neighborhooky.
They smell like they look, only better - an intensely fragrant citrusy jasmine, carried on a wave of sugar's volatile smile. They're the flowers in Hawaiian leis.
There's a rose variety; the aroma is a bit spicier than its lemon meringue cousin.
Frangipani is one of the few tropicals, at least around here, that is deciduous. It sheds its leaves in the winter, leaving behind a decorative sketch of itself through Christmas.
Here's a tree that I see on my ride. I don't know what it's called. It blossoms lavishly.
The blossoms form large globules over fern-like foliage. Within the clusters, individual flowers are quite pretty, a spotted lip accesorizing slender pistils. It's reminiscent of alstromeria (peruvian lily) that is popular in super market boquets.
Since I was on my bike, I thought it prudent to swing by the market for some groceries...