In Waltz Time...or Weather and About Time

I needed today and I had it and now I am happy.

This morning I had a meeting over at Kopachuck and Ranger Matt and I played with rocks on the beach for a couple of hours...I mean...uh...we worked on a geology program. But really we *did* work on a geology program- a program that involves playing with rocks on the beach. It was totally cool. Not only did it only start drizzling as we were packing up our rock key, but I had fun *and* I learned built lots of new knowledge on my Wyoming-learned knowledge of rocks. Andesitic volcanics of 40-60 mya. Good times.

THEN I went to Penrose and Ranger Dan and I talked about several of my other programs amid the daily work of the park. Continued laughing and learning and being productive. It was drizzling/raining this afternoon and we NEEDed the rain. It was parched and now all of this green will sip greedily on the seeping gifts...the water cycle is just so neat. Weather.

As I drove home, it rained and my new windshield wipers worked hard and it rained. Actual drops of water that pooled on the windshield until those wipers earned their keep. I stopped several times to photographically document the fog; the juts of land in the distance across a sea and a sea of fog; the vibrant red of the blackberry stem as surface tension sported it's best moves. As I hopped back in my car after the second stop, I looked ahead and saw hints of light blue sky. For the last thirty minutes of my commute home I watched this thick fog push south and break up; watched the sun stretch it's limbs across the sky as if suddenly woken from a fulfilling rest; watched the firs and moss dance with this new exuberance of the late afternoon.

THEN I got home and talked to my mom who is visiting me!

THEN I checked my various electronic means of correspondence and heard from many wonderful people and promises of reunions past and reunions future combine with reunions of present and I’m so lucky.

THEN I made a fire and had homemade soup…well…homemade vegetable mush and milk. Which was really good.

THEN I finished this blog and read myself to sleep.

I’m not finished yet! As my truck meandered 106 and my eyes hopped between the out-coming sun and the oncoming street, I began to think (dangerous, I know). I thought of my favorite places I remember. In Pittsburgh. Across the country. In Washington? The NPR that had been background noise suddenly asserted itself to my conscious thought. Now I have never been a big fan of “There Are Places I Remember.” It was my choir’s senior song. I sang it at my high school graduation. I still, or therefore, have never been a fan. But the instrumental arrangement began right as I thought the words “places I remember.” I would say creepy; I would say beautiful; I would say that although I have never liked the song, I will not be able to now deny its place in my emotional repertoire.

*******

The driver seat of a 2003 Honda Accord when the other three passengers are two pretty girls and a plastic goat

The passenger seat of a tan Mazda 626 when the driver is a pretty woman and when Sister Act rings at the top of our voices


The middle bench of the white van full of gear and people and nature as mindy smith begged jolene as the fog hung over the pines and the passion and the beautiful sad

The Shrine of the Blessed Virgin Mother

In front of the fireplace on Bayberry Lane by the creepy or interesting or emaciated iron dogs, surrounded by musical instruments singing to their heart’s and my heart’s content

The imagined sandbox-owl-puzzle-rolly-slide memory

The kitchen of any dear friend. Especially on a Tuesday

The Maple with the salmon stream seat

The 34th story co-ed bathroom where the smokers open the window and I go in after the smell is gone and just look out

The burn forest at the top of Clark’s Fork Canyon and on Mt. Rose and that place on Ellinor where I decided I didn’t want to ever get down if it meant going down that snow right there

The third beach at Penrose

Schenley Plaza watching D&Ks; eating Chinese and discussing FP; eating pancakes; looking at moon and stars. with no shoes. Definitely no shoes

The Top of the escalator at seatac that brings loved people to loved mountains and hugs

That corner of the friend’s couch with the big green and tan pillows with the concentric circles; or the plushy purple ones; or the neat orange ones I want to steal from the room with all of the stuff and next to the big kitchen; or the breaking Indian ones with the red one and the pink lights, or the one with a big stuffed wombat; or the ones that I haven’t met with

or where the heart is.