Moving On
I don't like the sound of the word "blog"
so I'm moving to Ballard Avenue,
a much nicer sounding neighborhood.
I live in Ballard. You would if you could.
Ballard was settled by Scandinavians in the late 19th-century. While we weren't part of the original migration, we've lived here a long time and still like it.
I don't like the sound of the word "blog"
so I'm moving to Ballard Avenue,
a much nicer sounding neighborhood.
A couple months ago I mentioned 2005's epic project: To walk all the streets of Ballard. This is a section of the well-worn Ballard Pedestrian's Friend map I use to keep track of my progress. I've no idea how many miles it adds up to. I don't really care. It's a lot.
The yellow streets are those I've walked. Since I live in NW Ballard, there are quite a few yellow streets west of 24th Avenue. There's not much yellow east of 24th. I've made a few reconnaissance trips over there. Folks seem to be OK.
You can't see it on this section, but there's an interesting pattern developing. The area covered by the yellow streets is shaped rather like a leaf. There's a point at the north end (Caffe Fiore), a broad mid-section, and a point at the south end (Old Town Ale House). They have the best French fries you'll ever eat. But as I move more and more east, I'll have to find other refreshment stations.
It's always great to see the daffodils bloom. Even more than the croci, it means spring is on its way. But they're such strange looking flowers. The center cone looks like some sort of weird alien from Star Trek looking to suck all the salt out of your body or something. I like my daffodils but just keep them well away from me, OK?