Day Thirty, Good Morning

Day Twenty-Nine, I like your cat costume

Day Twenty-Eight, Fight

Day Twenty-Seven, Blemish

Day Twenty-Six, Baking Away the Cold

Day Twenty-Five, Parking Lot

The State Of Things

This morning it poured. I opened the window in my kitchen and listened while I made scrambled eggs, toast, and a pretty incredible smoothy. Fall. Rain hitting floppy leaves that are soon to fall themselves. There is no better serenade on a lazy Sunday. The rain makes me happy and sad. I think that is why I love it the way I do. It captures in its moments how most of life feels. Both and. Muddied and clean. Old and dank and new and fresh. Here and gone. Dim and bright. Rain invites one to see and hear and feel and smell and taste (yep, I still like to tilt my head back and stick my tongue out in the rain) more than what those senses first take in. "Drops like stars," according to a young friend of Rob Bell. Stars everywhere as the rain splashes off of all it touches. Rain reminds me there is more to every experience than can be understood simply. Life is both and. And, like the rain, life can become tiresome and cold. I hope to remember the other side of the and. I hope to see the stars.

Day Twenty-Four, Caught

Day Twenty-Three, My Favorite Way to Love the Rain

Day Twenty-Two

FAIL, again.

Day Twenty-One, Reminded Me of Fireflies

Day Twenty, Wildlife

Day Nineteen, Blueberry Fields

Day Eighteen, Home

Day Seventeen, Greenlake

Day Sixteen, Star

Day Fifteen, Shadows Set In

My Favorite/Least Favorite Season of the Two

Today marks the commencement of my annual love-hate relationship with Fall/Winter/Spring in the greater Seattle area. I do not mean that as Fall and Winter and Spring; I would have typed it as such originally. I am referring to the longest of the two seasons we experience here, marked by grey skies, drizzle, and not-quite-freezing temperatures.

The first rain of October always brings me great delight. I romantically imagine reading and drinking tea, wrapped in a thick blanket; running down rain-slicked sidewalks; watching the leaves change and fall (this is what I am doing today, but it is tainted by my awareness of what follows). Through October and most of November, these feelings continue to protect me against the damp cold that not only wants to seep into my apartment but also into my brain. December comes and the anticipation of snow pulls me through. Any morning when the light coming in my window seems a bit brighter or I notice the unnatural silence that only occurs when commuters are trapped at home, I get a shot of adrenaline and clumsily open the blinds. Most often, my hopes are dashed (though this year, I am informed the Snow Apocalypse is impending in our area, and I am already excited to the point of hyperventilating!). December generally disappoints, and by January I can feel SAD setting in. I still have the hope of snow, however, and it is not until February - with its ridiculous need to set a record for most consecutive days of rain - that I succumb to complaining often about the weather in Seattle. Weather I really did love in October (where have those feelings gone?). March, April, and May are all saucy minxes, teasing me with bright, sun-shiny days sometimes warm enough for shorts before they return to endless weeks of darkness. June, depending on the year, is not much better.

Awareness is the first step in overcoming a vicious cycle of doom. This year, with the help of massive amounts of snow, I will take measures to love Fall/Winter/Spring all the way through its endless crawl to Summer. (I have no idea what those measures will be, but I am sure they will involve photo documentation.)

Day Fourteen, Where Leaves Choose to Fall

Day Thirteen, 52nd

Day Twelve, Good-bye

Day Eleven, FAIL

In Honor of 10/10/10

Day Ten, Good Shot (Hahaha)

Day Nine, Morning at Viskerville

Day Eight, The Davis House

Day Seven, Some Sort of Berries

Day Six, Klean Kanteen

Another World

Middle Fork Snoqualmie River

Day Five, Actually posting on the same day!