Nettles

In her epic (the traditional sense of epic, as in “narrating the deeds and adventures of heroic or legendary figures or the history of a nation,” not the “epic” of “moderately all right, average at best), novel of Seattle’s history, Great Son, Edna Ferber (best known for Giant, made into the movie with James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor), writes that our fair city is “too much of everything.”  It “suffers from giantism,” with two man-made canals, two ample bodies of water, two mountain ranges, and “seven hills higher than the classic seven hills of the Eternal City.”  The place is “fantastic,” “absurd,” “thrilling,” and “majestic.”  “We’re the city of Seattle in the state of Washington, and like the fella says, we’re all there is.  There isn’t any more.”

But, of course, you don’t have to curl up with Ferber’s novel to realize this (although doing so is highly recommended); all you really need is to ride your bike along Elliot Bay in the long lingering light of a late spring evening, portage through a surprisingly well-groomed hobo trail in the woods, and make your way among the preternaturally-tidy streets of Magnolia to end up, finally, on a bluff overlooking the Puget Sound so as to admire 360 degrees of awesome, including a couple of sundogs above the water as a visual lagniappe to top it off.

And that’s just the beginning!

Later, you get to congregate in a forest glade and enjoy a warming glow coaxed from available windfall (and a healthy dose of Girl Scout/Boy Scout water), not just one, but two, (in keeping with Ferber’s observation) doses of amazing; talk about “giantism,” indeed; this would have to be extra-giant giantism, if you ask me.

A solid effort all around, including unexpected scooters and an absolutely thrilling descent on the way home.

No doubt there are other places in the world with such bounty, but I’ll take Seattle: fantastically, absurdly, majestically thrilling, twice over, once more.