You are surely wondering what this ghastly goo is, and why I'd stop to take a picture! Actually, it is old paint, on a rainpipe in the alley near a shop on 6th Avenue, in the North End of Tacoma.
I've been walking along this main thorough- fare, which encom- passes the Proctor District, the University District, and the historic Stadium District as part of my weekly routine. When I moved to Washington from a small town in Montana, I was not at all delighted living in Tacoma, with shopping districts, a lot of traffic and congestion, and the bustle of the city.
But, here I am, and 18 years later I can say that I've made myself at home. Instead of walking through prairie grass or along a country trail on the look-out for cougars and bears, I'm walking along city streets - in my hiking boots. I put on a faded black visor, tie my long curly hair at the back with a scarf, and wrap a plaid flannel shirt around my waist. I'm heading down my mainstreet - 6th Avenue, just a few blocks from my house. It is a main street that leads from the water of Puget Sound over to the railroad tracks and the industrial Port of Tacoma, with its container ships in Commencement Bay. I walk about two miles, looking in shop windows, browsing the bead shops, the cookware shops, the deli's and the art galleries.
It is a famous street for eateries, like Primo's Grill, Silk Thai, and Southern Kitchen,
one of our favorites: listen to this, " Probably the last restaurant in Western Wash- ington with a screen door, the small but com- fortable Southern Kitchen cradles its regulars: college kids, families after church, old folks, everybody. Gloria and Thad Martin bought the place in 1994, and have been slathering their customers with love and country gravy ever since. "There's Gateway to India, and Shakbrah Java,
a little soup and sandwich eaterie with a lot of little tables along a wall of books. Reading and lingering over coffee is incouraged. It is a hangout for gatherings, and clubs, "where more than fifty leaders and activists from Western Washington's progressive organizations gather to discuss current efforts to identify ways they can be a driving force for change in their community. 
The Steelworkers Tacoma/Pierce County Associate Member Chapter bring together peace groups, retired and working union members, Demo- cratic and third party activists, GLBT groups, professors, and many others...." 
Jazzbones Restaurant and Nightclub. is a real hotspot on 6th Avenue, offering nightly live music and an open mike. Once a month a guest artist comes in with canvas and paint, and patrons help him create a painting. Everyone pitches in, contributing concepts and suggestions. He completes the work, and it is sold to help fund projects at Jason Lee Middle School a few blocks away. I was reading posters on the front door, when one of the proprietors saw me, opened the lock on the front door (the place wasn't open yet), and asked if I'd like to look around. 
He invited me in, showed me the art gallery upstairs, and the stage below. In November Jazzbones will open at 11:00 a.m. for lunch. That will bring in more of the day crowds who frequent 6th Avenue. 
This is one of the posters I was looking at, on the doorway. A gentleman came up to me and saw my camera, thinking it must be a very fancy, high-faluttin' type cause it is so big. He asked a few questions about it, and I told him it was a very old Sony model, a beginners type, that was sold 5 years ago.
I enjoy a real sense of community walking along the sidewalk, and people - amazingly - greet me, like the young man at the signal light who leaned out the window, and said, "Hey lady! I like your hat!" I smile a greeting, and he watches me pass. Another man acts silly in front of an espresso cafe, hugging his friends as he walks out. He sees me and says, "I'm here to give anyone a hug...do you want a hug?" I smile, keep walking and say, "I'll think about it." I watch his friends roll their eyes in amusement and pull him toward their car.
Another lady, the owner of Caravan Dreams, looks at me appreciating her dolls in the window, and comes over. The door to her shop is wide open. "Do you want to come in? I'm just about ready to close..." The aroma of incense was drifting out the doorway. I told her "No, thanks, but I'll stop by in a day or two on my walk."
As I walk along, I notice that someone has put a lot of attention into the grating around a tree in the bullevard.
Grafitti covers an art gallery wall in the alley.
And, the painter even left drops on the tiny plants near the pavement.
Long ago, this paint covered a wall and a handle. I like how parts of it show what's under- neath. 
And, this little guy, he really caught my attention. I walk past a funeral home, a ballet studio, a Greek take-out place where the aroma of gyros and pizza drifts out onto the sidewalk. There is an animal hospital, a pottery workshop, a Baptist church, a lawn mower repair, a denture repair, a lawyer and an accountant, and a Starbucks. 
Taco Bell, Kentucky Fried, Teriyaki, a hair and nail salon, Bartell Drug and Wells Fargo Bank, Precision Auto- motive (they do all my repairs), a flowershop, hardware and lumber store, doughnut shop, a gold and silver exchange, and catering business, real estate, a small grocery store, my dentist, a Walgreens, my gas station and used tire shop, the dry cleaners.....and Meier's House of Clocks, where I filmed this globe outside. 
I went inside the shop to find the owner, bent over some wheels, springs, levers and wire. He raised his head, wearing a little black magnifying glass. His accent was very strong, Swiss, and he told me about his shop. I looked around, while big chimes celebrated the hour. An entire wall was devoted to Swiss cuckoo clocks, with the little doors that open. There were music clocks, sand timer hourglasses, and whimsical alarms clocks. Huge $4,000 grandfather clocks from Europe play melodies every 15 minutes. There were triple chime mantel clocks that chimed melodies every 15 minutes and hand painted wooden musical clocks, Hummels and crystal pieces from Germany. And, behind the counter were animated animals, cats, dogs, donkeys, and a Hurdy – Gurdy from Barcelona, Spain. I could only imagine the cahaphony of dings and dongs, chimes, squeals, and buzzing alarms that orchestrate on the hour and quarter hour. 
I really appreciate this little microcosm on 6th Avenue, with its pleasant mix of people - university students at the espresso shops, the business elite frequenting the eateries on their lunch hours, and the disenfranchised, mentally ill, who walk the street for hours, back and forth, checking the garbage receptacles for the remnants of a sandwich. Kids park their bikes in front of the convenience store, and run in for candy. People sit outside the espresso shope enjoying their coffee. And Pierce Transit buses drop off shoppers every 15 minutes.Horns honk, the signals change, telling me when to walk, and as I round the corner, cross the main thoroughfare - 6th Avenue - I'm glad to be home. I'm close enough to benefit from all that stimulation and humanity, but removed to the quiet of my own front porch. I take my shoes off at the front door, and sit down on the loveseat.
Many people walk by during the course of the day, on their way down to 6th Avenue, many rushing to catch the bus, walk their dogs, or just take the kids for a walk. This couple, Becky and Stan, stopped to admire my front porch, so, natch, I snapped their photo.
