at the end of 34th Street

November 29, 2007

There's a magical world at the end of 34th Street. I pass through it on every southbound journey.

You must cross over a little footbridge to reach this world. Underneath the bridge flows a creek, a growing mosaic of giant snowflake ice. On the other side lies section 8 housing, Boulder style. Big, newly painted colorful buildings with wide lawns and a soccer field. But the cars- Pintos, old Lincolns, minivans with broken windows- show the income. Makes me feel sane, not so cut off from the world.

At one end, near the creek, there is a cul-de-sac. It has two wonderous features. The first is a center median, filled with wildflowers. Today I saw a man with one arm chopping down their remaining stalks. The other is a little family of shopping carts from all different stores around the Boulder area. They change out almost every day, trading big ones for the little two-level jobs, trading Target for Safeway. I don't know their purpose, their tenders, or why there are at least 20 at a time, but I feel as though I visit a little mystery each time I pass.

My entry into this world is always an adventure; it's the only time I really go off road, riding down a steep dirt trail to the sidewalk. I love standing up and coasting down this short *wheeee!* Cul-de-sac mystery, and broken pavement requiring concentration and fair weaving leads to the end, before it meets Valmont; there are planted trees with low lying branches. Stand high and touch their leaves, or now, their bare arms.

This place has become haven for me. It's the beginning of the day and a re-entry to home. It's alive with people, children, someone working on their car, Mexican men with their low whistles. Boulder is, with it's very clean streets, new buildings, shiny exterior, quite nearly out of reach. But here I feel human, normal, almost home.