The alley portion of this blog’s title is the result of rambles through the alleys of this town. Only our older neighborhoods have alleys outlining the lots, and I love wandering through them in any season. These are not the scary dark places of downtown with dumpsters, broken glass, and the smell of urine and stale beer. No, these alleys are magical places of personal design.
I might discover heirloom Hollyhocks blooming against aging bricks and pocket a few of the seeds.
The contrasts in property are evident—worn and tired or professionally landscaped. Either way, the Alley Cats wander with neglected steps.
City Chicks (banned in my town) surreptitiously cluck and scratch and produce crops of Hen Fruit and Cackleberries.
The alleys and backyards, sometimes ignored and soiled, usually a place to pause, are a gateway to wonder and imagination.