refuge in the not so secret garden

I love to hang out at my local sb.  I enjoy the certainty of the place, the regulars, the hot barista(s) that sometimes inhabit my fantasies, and the hotman, of course.  Mostly, though, I love that I can go there at any time of day or night and feel SAFE... safe in the sense that no one will look at me askance if I stay for hours and only buy one tea bag.  There is no need for explanation.  Partly it is the culture of the place, as I have explained before.  But it is also partly that I have worked my way into being a regular.  I talk enough with the baristas.  I make eye contact enough with the other regulars.  I engage in neighborly banter occasionally with the other cafe sitters.  It wasn't an automatic sense of safety, it has been cultivated.

For a while I have been cultivating some other spots.  There is the one I may have already blogged about inside of the transitional housing building. It is run by the homeless shelter as both employment and job training for homeless and near-homeless folks.  I was trying to go every week, but I have not been able to get there for the morning session in a few weeks...perhaps I will get there on Thursday.

For the past two weekends, I have gone to another independent coffee house for my morning or late morning through afternoon studying.  I think I have now gone three times in the past month.  The reason I first went there was because there is no internet.  I wanted to get in a concentrated few hours of writing, so sensory deprivation seemed appropriate.  It doesn't hurt that they have super yummy treats.

The first day I sat in the main building; the second time I retreated to the other enclosed area.  It was super cold both of those days, so sitting outside was out of the question.  I had never ventured into their back patio area, though I had heard it was lovely.  This weekend, the weather was perfect for sitting outside. 

This patio is like a secret garden, except it's not a secret.  Everyone at this place seems to be a regular, or to be friendly with the owners.  The owners, incidentally, are literally mom and pop and their daughter who has two daughters.  The little girls are super friendly and so cute.  It is sweet to see both grandparents doting over them as well.  The daughter is a little sour, but her presence is not so forceful that it is too negative.  Catching the little one's eye and playing usually clears the fog of her scowl.

I walked through the passageway to the garden/patio and immediately felt like I had walked into a refuge.  Little sparrows walked and slitted around the tables liked they owned the place. I immediately pinched a piece of my delicious muffin and tossed it over.  The little sparrow pecked gingerly, but then got distracted looking at me.  She (pretty sure it was the female) tilted her little head, eye searching for a better look at this human.  I had the feeling that she was trying to figure out if she knew me.  Was I regular?  she seemed to be wondering.

Not yet... but I guess I am working on it.  The young man who works the counter is the friendliest to me.  He offered to hold on to my brownie until I was ready to go, asked what I was working on today, and brought me water when he saw that I had run out of americano and muffin.  The grandmother smiled when she saw the young man talking to me like he knew me, and appreciated that I was talking to the five year old.  It is no easy thing to become a treasured regular at the independent coffee shop.

In fact, as I was picking up the brownie, I said something to the little one, and she decided to come out and visit with me.  So we sat with her grandparents' dog at the little table and chatted.  I wanted to know why she wasn't wearing the black wig.  "Black wig?" she asked coyly.  I reminded her that I had seen her in it a couple of weeks ago.  She giggled and said she didn't know where it was.  I can't remember what all she wanted to tell me besides to show me the scary spiders on the wall.  She divulged that she is home-schooled. 

This posting is a little bit all over the place, but I wanted to share a sense for what it looks and feels like in the not so secret garden, but I didn't have a camera.  It is an open space between adobe style buildings.  The buildings facing the Route 66 are businesses mostly not open on the weekend.  You can smell the yummy treats and savory breakfasts cooking in the coffee shop.  The back door of the kitchen lets into the garden.  The other pieces of the building encircling the garden are "private residences" as the painted notice alerts wanderers. There was a pile of wood outside of one of these residences.  I could see the chimney peeking out on the side street side of that building.  I guess that it must be a working chimney or else that wood pile was just decorative.

There are hand-painted flowers accents some walls, and the windows were all rimmed in that blue they like to pair with adobe.  One window was accented with the blue trim and the river stones.  On others, there are tiled pictures: the virgen on one wall, and an Italian countryside behind me.  There are oddly placed iron (or faux iron) room dividers in the area with the tables.  There is also a "fire pit" though it seems like something you might find inside of a sauna.  I bet on cold days it would radiate plenty of heat without an open flame.  I thought I could see some vapor rising out of the rocks, but it didn't seem likely they would have lit it on that day.  The tables in the sun had brightly colored cloth umbrella shades.  It was cozy and safe and warm and inviting.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the coffee shop.

I am hoping to become a regular someday even though it will mean breaking my rule and telling someone my name.