Moonlight ride
Just checking in to report that I've had a very satisfying week or so since I last wrote. At the moment, what I've been enjoying most of all has been riding my bike. I've gotten into a really nice routine with it, to the point where I don't even have to think about it anymore – it finally feels just as natural as walking (or driving, depending on what you're used to), and so I'm really free to notice lots of other things as I ride along, besides just looking for new potholes or other road hazards to watch out for.
Lately I've been paying special attention to certain smells – trying to identify a flower I've been passing that smells strongly of vanilla, breathing in the clean resin-y smell of eucalyptus in the fog, enjoying whiffs of damp hay, fresh water creek, feed lot (maybe it's perverse to like this but it reminds me of my childhood), pine wood, fig trees warming in the sun, freshly-plowed field, traces of last week's skunk ... and then as I get into town, cut grass, rose garden, clean dust rising off someone's wet asphalt driveway, hot tortillas from the tamale shop just past the bridge, warm bread and cinnamon rolls from the bakery that used to be my favorite back when I was still able to eat such things. I'm developing a whole catalog in my head of smells that belong to this place. I love them all.
I'm having a good summer. Tonight I worked late, and then as I was standing on the sidewalk outside my building putting on my helmet a friend walked by whom I hadn't seen in awhile, and as we were standing there catching up another friend drove up and parked (it was farmer's market night), and since she was feeling a little blue I convinced her to join us for a drink, so we walked a couple of blocks and as we were settling into our table another friend came walking by and we snagged her, and then she called her husband, and what started out as an evening on which I'd been hoping to get home at a reasonable time for once and hop into a cool tub with my book and a little bowl of leftover stir-fry turned into a full-scale Summer Scene of sorts – a sweet little sidewalk table in the setting sun with four friends, a large tray of mojitos, and several appetizers and entrees, including – for me – a beautiful quail, avocado and mango salad with baby greens and an unusual tropical vinaigrette that I am totally going to be ordering again.
The only thing that was missing was Mr. A, who is working away from home again for the next two weeks in a town I've heard lots of people refer to as the armpit of California ... the hot-as-hell, sweaty, dusty, boring armpit that nobody wants to go to, especially during the hottest part of the year. I miss him.
My ride home was maybe the nicest ride I've had so far this summer. I had meant to go out and look at the moon last night, and I was even going to set an alarm to wake myself up for the eclipse, but then I got all involved in a phone conversation with a friend and by the time we hung up I'd forgotten all about the moon ... So luckily it was still there tonight, and just as gorgeous as I'm sure it was last night.
Sometimes riding home at night isn't all that great, for example when it's raining and cold and blowing like a hurricane, and it's completely dark and I suddenly remember that there are hardly any street lights or outdoor lighting of any kind out where we live ... But on a night like tonight I was glad it's good and dark out here, because that made it even more lovely to ride along bathed in moonlight (as they say) under the stars with crickets and frogs and mockingbirds singing all around me, and the smell of somebody's jasmine, and somebody else's little striped cat crouched in the tall silent grass at the side of the road watching me pedal by.
I rode the extra half-mile uphill to the end of our road just for the pleasure of coasting back down to the house, and now I'm here and feeling well fed, well exercised, safe, happy, warm and comfortable, and just relaxed enough that I think I'm going to sleep really, really well tonight.
I was reflecting earlier that in a lot of ways, I feel like this is my favorite year so far of all the years I've lived. Not that much seems to have changed on the surface, and certainly finding out I have an incurable, chronic, degenerative and potentially life-threatening disease (yow!) was not exactly a high point ... but for some reason I still feel happier, more relaxed, more open, and just generally more content and satisfied with everything than I remember feeling at any other time in my life.
It seems important to record these feelings when they come up. I feel like I've spent so much time over the years chronicling my angst, anxiety and ennui ... all of which are still there, too, I suppose. It's just that somehow I'm not very interested in them anymore. These days what interests me is what feels good and right and whole. And I guess I'm just saying, I know I'm lucky that I have a lot of those things in my life right now. So I'm taking note.
Lately I've been paying special attention to certain smells – trying to identify a flower I've been passing that smells strongly of vanilla, breathing in the clean resin-y smell of eucalyptus in the fog, enjoying whiffs of damp hay, fresh water creek, feed lot (maybe it's perverse to like this but it reminds me of my childhood), pine wood, fig trees warming in the sun, freshly-plowed field, traces of last week's skunk ... and then as I get into town, cut grass, rose garden, clean dust rising off someone's wet asphalt driveway, hot tortillas from the tamale shop just past the bridge, warm bread and cinnamon rolls from the bakery that used to be my favorite back when I was still able to eat such things. I'm developing a whole catalog in my head of smells that belong to this place. I love them all.
I'm having a good summer. Tonight I worked late, and then as I was standing on the sidewalk outside my building putting on my helmet a friend walked by whom I hadn't seen in awhile, and as we were standing there catching up another friend drove up and parked (it was farmer's market night), and since she was feeling a little blue I convinced her to join us for a drink, so we walked a couple of blocks and as we were settling into our table another friend came walking by and we snagged her, and then she called her husband, and what started out as an evening on which I'd been hoping to get home at a reasonable time for once and hop into a cool tub with my book and a little bowl of leftover stir-fry turned into a full-scale Summer Scene of sorts – a sweet little sidewalk table in the setting sun with four friends, a large tray of mojitos, and several appetizers and entrees, including – for me – a beautiful quail, avocado and mango salad with baby greens and an unusual tropical vinaigrette that I am totally going to be ordering again.
The only thing that was missing was Mr. A, who is working away from home again for the next two weeks in a town I've heard lots of people refer to as the armpit of California ... the hot-as-hell, sweaty, dusty, boring armpit that nobody wants to go to, especially during the hottest part of the year. I miss him.
My ride home was maybe the nicest ride I've had so far this summer. I had meant to go out and look at the moon last night, and I was even going to set an alarm to wake myself up for the eclipse, but then I got all involved in a phone conversation with a friend and by the time we hung up I'd forgotten all about the moon ... So luckily it was still there tonight, and just as gorgeous as I'm sure it was last night.
Sometimes riding home at night isn't all that great, for example when it's raining and cold and blowing like a hurricane, and it's completely dark and I suddenly remember that there are hardly any street lights or outdoor lighting of any kind out where we live ... But on a night like tonight I was glad it's good and dark out here, because that made it even more lovely to ride along bathed in moonlight (as they say) under the stars with crickets and frogs and mockingbirds singing all around me, and the smell of somebody's jasmine, and somebody else's little striped cat crouched in the tall silent grass at the side of the road watching me pedal by.
I rode the extra half-mile uphill to the end of our road just for the pleasure of coasting back down to the house, and now I'm here and feeling well fed, well exercised, safe, happy, warm and comfortable, and just relaxed enough that I think I'm going to sleep really, really well tonight.
I was reflecting earlier that in a lot of ways, I feel like this is my favorite year so far of all the years I've lived. Not that much seems to have changed on the surface, and certainly finding out I have an incurable, chronic, degenerative and potentially life-threatening disease (yow!) was not exactly a high point ... but for some reason I still feel happier, more relaxed, more open, and just generally more content and satisfied with everything than I remember feeling at any other time in my life.
It seems important to record these feelings when they come up. I feel like I've spent so much time over the years chronicling my angst, anxiety and ennui ... all of which are still there, too, I suppose. It's just that somehow I'm not very interested in them anymore. These days what interests me is what feels good and right and whole. And I guess I'm just saying, I know I'm lucky that I have a lot of those things in my life right now. So I'm taking note.
2 Comments:
"the armpit of California ... the hot-as-hell, sweaty, dusty, boring armpit that nobody wants to go to, especially during the hottest part of the year."
Bakersfield? I've never even been there, but from what I've heard the description fits.
Isn't it fabulous to run into friends and then just do something spontaneous? Even though Portland is a biggish city, it's so much smaller than Chicago that I'm always running into my friends when I'm out and about. It helps that quite a few of them live within walking (and in some cases crawling) distance from our house, I suppose. Still, it is really nice to have them close by.
I'm glad you're having such a great summer!
Wow T, It sounds like you are in a great place!
Cheers to that!
Post a Comment
<< Home