I just had one of those magic moments. The sun, low in the sky to the west, found the gap between the clouds and the Cascades and flirted* with Bend. For a few minutes, mellow red and yellow brass tones of sunlight warmed the sides of the junipers and the indigo clouds in the southern sky.
Jacqueline Du Pre's recording of Haydn's Cello Concerto No. 2 in D provides the soundtrack for this moment. She wantonly displays more emotion than he, Hr. F. Haydn, may have felt comfortable with.
It works, beautifully.
I'm noticing that as the days lengthen, I feel a lightening in my heart. For me, the two months surrounding the solstice are the hard ones. Though I may have a touch of SAD, I really think I am reacting normally. The plants and animals here seem to feel the same way I do. During the darkest period, the seasonal plants looked shattered and the animals, deeply concerned. I, also shattered and concerned, carry on.
And now, with the longer hours, robins are foraging in cheerful gangs, the juniper outside our bedroom has just dropped a bunch of blushed-blue berries, and the energetic Mrs Elliott says she also feels a change a-comin'.
So what I'm noticing is that Bend's winters push me deeply enough into the dark that I long for summer's heat, while Bend's summers push me far enough into the heat that I long for winter.
I like that. Thems is honest seasons.
* This far from the equator (a land where there are no seasons) the sun is no cocktease. The sun is promising heat. A lot of heat. There will be heat.
Going backward to catch up. - Worked at the store yesterday, my first full day in a long while. It was fun and exhausting. The thing I noticed is,we don't seem to be at the forefront of...
4 hours ago