We crossed this footbridge over the Sammamish River, where a couple paddled lazily on the calm water, and strolled along the riverfront trail. The air was lightly hazy with lingering smoke, but not into unhealthy territory. This is August, now.
As families and commuters on bikes zipped past, we soaked in the fragrance of sun-warmed berries. Ripe blackberries: the smell of August in the Northwest. Fittingly, I’d enjoyed a blackberry basil milkshake with our dinner on a sun-baked patio.
A well-worn but unsigned dirt path cut through a gap in the foliage — following it, we discovered the Burke Gilman trail just a hundred yards away.
It’s been years since we last visited Bothell — well before the pandemic. The downtown has filled in with apartments and shops, with more under construction. Native shrubs erupt from a gap between road and sidewalk where a daylit creek runs through downtown. Art and artistic lighting decorate comfortably broad sidewalks. I was charmed by a sculpture of a baby bear set right outside the library as if peering in at the kids reading inside.
