Weather

All week it's been sunny in the morning, moving into clouds and rain in the afternoon and evening. On Wednesday as I left the house I looked back and the whole mountain above us was draped in those lovely drifty necklaces of fog, with black and purple clouds behind it in the west, and the sky opening up just a bit at the eastern horizon, so that beautiful beams of sunlight were shooting straight across the valley and lighting up the colors on the hillside. All variations on green, of course, and also yellow and purple and white now, because the wildflowers are starting to open.

I've tried to photograph this type of scene before and the photos never do it justice. Instead, here's one I took earlier this year when it was storming, looking back toward the same view. Yeah, it's kind of dark, but you know – the flash doesn't help much when you're in the middle of a rainstorm in the great outdoors. How do those nature photographers get such great images of weather? Maybe I need a different kind of camera.

At that goat party last weekend someone had a tiny new little Canon Elph. It's the same camera I have, except mine is the first Elph they ever made. When it was new it seemed like the smallest, most elegant design ever – now, it feels like I'm walking around with somebody's big old worn out shoe in my hand. It still works fine, but it's kind of embarrassing to pull it out.

Oh well. I guess I'm just not as attached to gadgets as I have been in the past. Instead, right now I'm starting to plan and obsess about my studio. The one that isn't built yet. In a way, the studio is in the same category as the bike was for two years between the time my last perfect bike was stolen, and the day I bought my current perfect bike. I had not yet found the one I knew I would be happy with, so I preferred to have nothing at all – to dream about the perfect bike, rather than to actually have a bike I was less than perfectly happy with.

Thinking about the studio, it feels the same. How do I want to build it? Like a little tea house to meditate and write in? Like a big open room I can dance and jump in, and make enormous paintings? Like a greenhouse, with big windows on one side? This last one I don't want to think too much about, because if I build it like a greenhouse there's a good chance Mr. A will gradually encroach upon it in order to use it as an actual greenhouse, and I'll lose my space. The big open room idea is problematic too, because if I build something that requires permits then we will have to have an inspector come over, which I've been told could trigger a reassessment of the property and an increase in property taxes.

And will I build it myself, or hire someone to do it? I've been looking at plans on the web, and even at kits that come with all the walls and windows and doors, requiring only a day to assemble on site. For example, how about this one? It looks so sturdy and comfortable, like it really belongs there. And it has five sides, which I'd have to think about ... but I like the openness of it. Then again – a kit? Wouldn't it be better if I designed it and built it myself, with my own two little hands? I could take the whole spring and summer to do it, if I wanted to – though I doubt it would take that long. And wouldn't it be a great feeling to know that I had done everything myself? Assuming it turns out well. And why shouldn't it?

Anyway. That's what I'm thinking about today. By the time Mr. A gets home next week I'm supposed to have a plan for what I want to do with the yard, including choosing the site for this new building or shed or whatever I'm going to call it. I'm excited to get down to it.