Well, I'm back. Maybe. Kinda.
A few weeks ago we returned from That Thing in the Desert, which K refers to as "going camping with 50,000 of our closest friends." It was an experience and a half. No, closer to experience times 100. It's an emotional, physical, psychological (and not to mention aural) onslaught but it's the most interesting and weirdest thing I do all year. I mean, really, how often do you have pancakes at dawn in the middle of a plant-less desert, served in a mobile 50s diner?
Also, I ate a lot of bacon, and it was good. Something about salty, protein-ey, hot things tastes miraculously good out there.
We got a nice hot week here in Portland once I got back, which was lovely seeing as there hadn't been much of a summer. Finally had one of those days where you just kind of slug around drinking fruity drinks and the cat just walks up to me and falls over sideways, imploring me with her eyes to turn the temperature down (sorry cat, no air conditioning). And then it was over, and someone flipped the Fall switch. Today it is raining. I was hoping for a little bit of a warm September (and wildly, October), but: outlook not so good.
I am a little bummed out by the weather. Rain's actually okay but all-day grey is not my favorite. I haven't felt like I have much of a sense of purpose, or am getting anything done. I STILL haven't stocked up the etsy store. grrrr. I'm dyeing nearly every day but it doesn't seem like enough. Maybe this week.
Autumn is one of my most favorite times of year, and so heartachingly beautiful; but also so sad. It's like I can feel the loss of the light and warmth, every day. Is there such thing as emotionally difficult weather?
I managed to leave for a bike ride the other day JUST as it started raining - it started up a block away from home. As always, impeccable timing. It wasn't a long ride, just up a little hill nearby. I go up, feeling like I'm going to die (although it's gotten better. I don't feel like I'm going to die RIGHT away), then I get to the top, everything's OK, and I ride back down and then go up again.
Although I like riding in the rain (well, not-cold rain). There's something that makes me feel particularly alive. Most everyone else is boxed away, indoors, while I am exposed, speeding through it, all those drops hitting my arms and legs and face.
It was one of the moving-through rainstorms, not one of the unending grey sky dripdrips, and the sunset from the top was beautiful. Everybody had cleared out except for a lens-cap of photographers (but no gaggle of geese or murder of crows).
The phone pics don't do it justice of course. I don't know how to capture the moment when the sun lit up the whole misty-rainy valley just before it fell behind the west hills. If it weren't for the rain, I wouldn't ever see that, as I try to remember when the clouds start to pile up.