Thursday Happened
In regards to Thursday, it rained. Just in the morning, just for a minute. It had been so long since this happened though that at first I didn't understand. I just looked out the window wondering why the air look all strange and smudgey like that. Then I heard the noise—like pebbles on corrugated tin, and smelled the scent—like dirt and leaves and other forest mysteries.
In the same way that thinking about death clarifies your life, a nice rainstorm now and then—well it purifies that sunlight that's surely to follow.
Three Things
Secret pools. I'm happy to live in a place where people appreciate the value of being out in nature, sure, but I'm happier still to escape those crowded trails—to find a hidden path like we did the other day, one that that leads you around a corner and out of site.
Walking to work. Hey it's just a 3.5-mile wander from Northeast to Southeast through neighborhoods crammed with roses and butterfly bush, past intriguing "free piles" sprinkled on street corners and people laughing loudly in crowded cafes or sitting quietly on shady front porches. I do it once a week—7 miles round trip. Part of the 2015 Sherowski Improvement Plan ...
Fresh figs. In July, the neighbor's fig tree droops over my driveway—heavy with about a hundred bursting-ripe figs. Until now, it never occurred to me to eat them. It only ever occurred to me to rake their sticky guts off the cement after they turn. Anyway, last weekend I bit into one for the first time. Lightly sweet and perfumey. A summer breeze in yer mouth. I picked a bunch and have a heaping bowl—come over and eat one!
A River Day
I didn't go to the river last weekend AKA the "hot weekend" (I was entertaining out of towners) but instead waited until this past weekend, which wasn't as sweltering but adequately toasty mind you, to hike into a secluded beach and spend a few hours tanning and swimming.
The dog, though, he's already been in the water this summer—it wasn't, like, his first time. You wouldn't have known it by watching him, though, running around madly, a real Tasmanian river devil, barking and splashing in everyone's faces. His pal Igby—the same. Together, they drove us all crazy, stomping over the clean towels, kicking sand on both people and food, always shaking off gallons of cold water on the most comfortable person—the one who'd really settled into their towel and was almost, almost asleep.
That's the thing about dogs! Always doing dog things. You can't not be happy when you see how happy they are, though. Lefty's a water dog through and through—he was made for river days, and it just somehow wouldn't be right to deny him.
Sunburns, sandy feet, etc.
The Weekend Report
Attended two surprise birthday parties. One, for Ben, involved NoPo's best front porch awash in evening light. The other, for Charlie, involved face-melting guitar rock from the band Magic Sword, as well as everyone running around all drunk with toy light sabers.
Slashed the Bracewell mini for the last time for a spell—as Bracewell himself is becoming a new dad, like, any minute now and will need nothing in his life for a bit but peace and quiet and, probably, diapers.
Took the dog for summer's first swim. Watched him lunge through the shining waves.
Moms and pops were in town with nephew Pat. As such, they were towed around by me in search of a Portland I insist upon, one that is not clogged with kooks and traffic but rather a mellow city of incendiary pizza, easy parking, and snow-capped volcanoes off in the distance.
Wine spritzin' on the porch with my boy Walter.
Mom and nephew—nice light and good marble at Pittock Mansion.
Don't pizza make you smile?
Fact: I went to a party that looked like this and I was not on drugs.
Tunnel Falls
Hiked 12 miles roundtrip to walk behind a waterfall last week. What's a long hike to you? Twelve miles is very long to me. The longest! But it seemed worth it considering that walking is good for you and meditative and also there was that sweet sap smell of the trees in the sun and how, once at the falls, you could slip into the darkness of a cold tunnel and then emerge again in a wild prism of overspray, which dropped over you like a veil and cooled your skin, giving you energy for the (long) walk back to the car.