A flower in a waste land

This side street has to be one of the uglier stretches of road in Philadelphia.  It’s Cuthbert Street between 12th and 13th, wedged between a parking structure and the freight entrances to an office building.  But this wonderful sculpture was installed over it recently.  I saw the story in the news, but today was the first time I got to see it in person.  As good as the camera on my phone is, the picture does not do justice to the powerful effect it has.

I did not intend to walk down to Reading Terminal Market today, but the Philadelphia Distance Run diverted the #48 bus, among others.  It was a beautiful September afternoon.  The flowers along the Parkway are in bloom, and the fountain in Logan Circle has been turned on again.  Laura’s favorite chicken place, unfortunately, was closed.  It’s Sunday.  They’re Amish.  My tea store does not seem to have survived the pandemic shutdown.  The winesap apples have not arrived in the fresh food section yet.  I still enjoyed making my way through the crowds, savoring the smells and the tempting sights.

Nothing lasts, and no good deed (like walking almost four miles) goes unpunished.  Nevertheless, I still have a supply of 600 mg ibuprofen from a dental procedure last year.

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