the wind

these things

The wind, a roar that chased us up the hill through the trees. Crows spilled upwards like smoke from trees of umber fire. November, new moon, cold days and silver light. The ocean has been like pounded steel most days, greased nickel when the wind pummels it at the land. I don't really at all like walking home in the dark, and I don't like the dark mornings much either. What I do like is bearing witness to lazy golden sunrises and pink-flushed sunsets, with no special effort on my part to seek them out.

Yesterday, a long-overdue visit with a best friend. Steaming chai fragrant with honey and superfoods. Bowls of nourishing vegetables, cooked and fermented and coddled just so. Bright magenta beet grapefruit juice. Wanders along familiar but slowly changing streets. The park, which is always there, peacocks, ducks. Bare feet on the beach, cold rock carved out by the last ice age. Books and beautiful tea. Conversation and company.

One day last week I watched Jer pull into the driveway as I came down the path. Once inside the door, he gently steered me back outside and around the bend in the road, where we watched a cat-like barred owl hopping around in the dry leaves and softly flying to perch atop the fence. The next morning before it was quite light, and in the evening (5 pm counts as evening now, right?) as soon as the dusk had settled, the barred owl's who-cooks-for-you call rang across the still backyards.

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an evening in June

Some random observations on light and the weather: Yesterday afternoon, mare's tails clouds streaked the sky, often a sign of changing weather. Today, I came home to laundry blown across the garden. It's still light outside right now, and getting close to bedtime. Outside the window I can see the wind still pushing the tree branches around. We brought the rabbits into the garden today; it was such a delight watching them explore, and entirely worth the effort of wrangling them into harnesses. I've been incredibly lucky in the past few weeks- while I've been working overtime, Jer has gotten into the habit of cooking dinner. The best part (aside from being fed) is that he's discovered he likes cooking. This week, though my schedule has gone back to normal, he's kept cooking, leaving me more time to clean and putter.

There were fledgling crows in the courtyard at my work in the beginning of June, first one and then two, sitting tucked away in the ornamental currant bushes by the library. Their parents kept an eye on them from the metal twirls of a statue and the high beams, cawing at people who got too close, and occasionally swooping in to scare off some unsuspecting wanderer or deliver morsels of food. They stuck around for about a week and then were gone, testing flight on city streets or in the park.

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fullness

I'm feeling pretty good about things right now. I've been working overtime so have a big paycheck coming my way. Jer has been in the kitchen a lot lately, making us gourmet dinners, and at the moment I'm writing this, has strawberry vanilla ice cream chilling in the freezer. My elderly cat and my dentally and directionally challenged rabbit have both been improving by leaps and bounds, and it is beyond heartening to see them looking healthy again. When I left work on Thursday, the wind had picked up and was whipping around me as I crossed the bridge. The walkway was almost empty on the way home and the fullness of the wind hurt my ears and wrapped around my legs as I walked. I came across a toy dog staring devotedly at an older man on a bench with a twist-dial radio playing crackly old French music and I felt like I had stepped into a scene from Amelie. 

The next morning was clear and sweet and summery, blue sky vaulted high and the sea calm. Rose petals, blown by the wind, were scattered all through the dry grass, red on sun-bleached gold. 

A family of Canada geese swam by, the goslings fluffy with soft down. I also saw an otter, frisking about on the point. 

This week I made herbed cheddar bread; I am so looking forward to having more spare time for baking projects. For now, bed. 

        

the wind

Feral fennel softens the roadsides of my neighborhood, and something that looks a lot like scraggly kale clings to the rocky seawall. I'm getting into the groove of things at work. Yesterday evening I was sick and fell asleep facedown on the floor after lurching around the house looking intermittently like a pufferfish. Tonight, I watered the garden and put the house back in order. It has been windy lately. I've been trying to wear office appropriate clothes, and by the time I get to work my hair has been completely restyled by the elements. Oh well. Mostly it has felt like I've been walking into the wind, but it shifted the other day and was at my back, gently pushing me along.

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