This is a wicked-cool pic by my friend, the wicked-cool Gena Thompson. The backstory here, not that the image needs one, is that this was taken from a plot of land across the street from a car repair shop. Many years ago, one guy at the car repair shop though that plot of land should have some flowers on it, so he planted roses, and to this day the rose garden he planted has endured. It’s in the heart of the Downtown Eastside, where many would simply assume the flowers would be stripped, but year in and year out they endure, jammed between the repair shop and the railway yards, on a strip of grass no wider than a man can reach.
Stunningly poignant. This pic is amazing; the contrast with the mountains in the background particularly caught my interest. Thank you for sharing the story. How many people would plant roses in such a place? It does my heart good to know they are there.
that’s some fiiiiine photography! LOL. thanks for blogging this :D
and thanks for calling me wicked-cool, that really stokes the ol’ self-esteem!
You’re one of the best photographers I know, and you’re constantly getting shots that other people just walk right by and never even see. “Wicked cool” is the least of what you are.
The garden is one of the nicest things in the hood. I live a couple of blocks away from the garden. My flowers always get picked. I wait, and wait, and wait for that flower I planted to bloom. Sometimes it lasts a day, sometimes a week. Almost always, someone picks them.
like your blog.
That is hilarious.
The neighborhood is full of surprises!
It’s a show-stopper alright!
It reminds me of a place in my country. It’s called Gulistan – which means garden. But all you see there is just traffic and chaos. Sheesh, where have all the flowers gone? Have young girls really picked them all?
That’s sad. This spot was an urban wasteland until the fellow at the garage started planting the flowers. They’re sort of considered local treasures, so very few people pick them or let their dogs pee on them. It’s other people’s gardens that are pillaged.