Summer Breeze Makes Me Feel Fine
Season-wise, I don't discriminate. I like ’em all for one reason or another. And the turning of them makes being an earthling truly sweet, no?
What I think I love most about summertime though is the air. It's substantial—you experience it. The stuff wraps around you, carrying saturated colors and smells. Tank tops at night, a graceful sun beam shooting through the trees, the deepest azure of a slow-moving river, a whiff of of jasmine from the vine crawling up the portico ... Things that might otherwise be unaccessible to you, in other words—they're all unlocked by this soft, fecund breeze.
If you're out and about in the next few weeks (which, I mean, why the fuck wouldn't you be?), just take a sec and breathe it in. Feel it. That's good stuff, I contend.
Over Hill, Through Woods
Friday afternoon adventures are an institution I can really get behind. We embarked on one of these last Friday, and I mean look where we ended up?
Leave work early—just make it happen. Drive up the winding road. Walk down the winding trail. Follow the pin on your iPhone until you lose service, and then, oh ye of little faith, just keep putting your feet in front of each other. Maybe, just maybe, you'll emerge from the shade of the pines onto a dazzling sand beach, not a soul in sight, an electric-green pool rippling before you, a rope swing hanging motionless from a tree across that pool.
Alone In The Wilderness
"It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it."—Ranier Maria Rilke
Days off go by too quickly if you let them. Sleep in, fritter around in sweat-pants-ville, and by the time you're done walking the dog it's time for happy hour, now isn't it? But this week I didn't want to do that. I wanted to do something different.
I suspect that some of you who drive up to Mt. Hood frequently won't think it's any big deal, but for me, this trip was a mission. An hour and a half by car to the Trillium Lake Loop. A mission! Anyway, it's hard to know how long a "loop" is going to take—especially when everyone else you meet out there is cross-country skiing. No swishing regally through the forest for me, and no coasting all shaky-legged down the hills … just a steady plodding through the snow on my two feet. It took a while—several hours. And it was very quiet, especially at the mid point where the trees cleared out and you could sit right there on the rim of the lake—just a big, frozen meadow, really—contemplating the mountain.
I brought a lunch of bread and cheese and crunched on it while Lefty did donuts of wild joy around me. He's an animal, after all—at his happiest in the wilderness with the feel of his paws ripping the snow. Indeed, he was so happy that he made me happy—and that, right there, is why you wanna have pets in your life.
January Proper
As mentioned before, it's been bright and blistering cold. I like the way the dog has, since the temperature dropped, migrated up from the foot of the bed to sleeping with his head directly on the pillow next to me in this absurdly human repose. He sleeps soundly, and when I say his name, he bolts up in confusion just as you or I might do, the rowdy furs around his ears forming a wild approximation of old man's bed head.
Despite winter, snowboarding hasn't happened for me at all this month due to work, work every single day. However, I've been skating, skating despite the cold, each time feeling almost worse and less capable on my board than the last—fatter and lazier feet, creaking bones, muscles that don't move, nothing coming naturally but rather brutally after much hard work, sweat and swear words. A thaw would be nice, for my skating at least ... just sayin.
Melissa's house. A perfect Portland backyard, no?