“Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side” was playing on the radio when I pulled into a parking place in the giant gravel lot at work. Even though I was running a few minutes late, I sat and listened to the rest of the song (it is one of my favorites), singing along and dancing my head and hands to the beat. I watched two other cars pull up and park next to me, then looked up the mountain to see one of the lifts carrying the first riders of the day up, chair after chair full of people swinging in the breeze, legs dangling. There were two huge yellow groomers making their way down beneath those people. Interesting juxtaposition.
On a drippy, cloudy, cool and humid mid morning, standing on the front door step of a friend, hand raised to knock on the door, a hawk flew by just feet above my head from over the top of the house. I heard its wings beat and felt the rush of air on my skin before I saw it. I followed its flight, turning to watch it swoop down between trees, then glide back up into the crook of a nearby tree where it landed in a nest and deposited the stick it was carrying. I was gaping up at this wonder when my friend opened the door to see what I was doing just standing there. I showed her where the nest is and we both saw the hawk take flight again, soar through the trees and out of sight beyond a neighbor’s house. Now we are waiting excitedly for spring to see if that hawk and its mate raise a young one!
Laying in bed, room dark, snuggled deep under flannel sheets and a feather comforter, cats curled around and stretched over various body parts, all is quiet and calm. I can hear rain dripping onto the metal roof from the tree branches over the house, randomly plunking giant drops. Quietly, slowly a subtle shift occurs. The plunking becomes softer, less random, more even, as big drips falling from trees become rain drops from the sky. Eventually the noise gets louder as the clouds open up and a dull, distant, constant roar emanates from the ceiling, calming me into sleep.
Sun has set below the far ridge, sky is low and overcast, the air is calm and still, the rain has stopped, an even grey blue light fills in the space around everything, slowly darkening as night settles in. In this instant, just after a fuzzy silver sun slipped coldly behind the hill, every tiny dark twig on every little dark branch, on every dark tree, bush, bramble, weed, and blade of grass has a perfect sparkling silver prism water drop attached to it. The whole world is covered in millions of minuscule perfect shining silver rainbows.
Riding in the front passenger seat, back slightly angled for a vaguely reclining effect, leaning my forehead against the side window, eyes closed. We are traveling down the interstate, flowing with the traffic. I feel the vibration of the wheels moving on the road through the glass, and hear it transmitted through the bone of my skull. It is a peaceful, gentle, almost beyond sensation kind of noise, just background sound that I am actually listening to. The low winter sun is shining through the window, warming the skin on my face. I pretend it’s warmer outside than it is, the glass is cold where it contacts my head. With my eyes closed, I feel the radiant heat of the sun soak into my psyche, warming my dreams of longer days and summer nights.
Bright white full sunshine, bright cerulean sky, bright shimmery silver gauzy clouds high and flimsy, gazing out the car window, zooming along the highway, brown leafless trees whizzing by in blur, shadows strobing in my eyes, face leaning on the cold glass of the window, feeling drowsy and content. As we travel around a curve, the angle of sunlight shifts, and the whole wispy cloud next to the sun turns into a glowing crystallized rainbow!
Leaving the house on a cold morning, the car covered with frost: delicate, lacy, intricate layered ice crystals. Some stand over an inch tall like minuscule crystal castles, others lay flat on the surface of the metal like giant frilly snowflakes. Much later in the day, we come out of a store, sun shining, and the air warm for January, I notice that the frost is still on the flat surface of the car. This seems impossible, it should have melted and evaporated. I lean close and scrutinize, the “frost”. It is still looks like frilly giant snowflakes, but not dull and Grey brown on color. I gently touch and rub the image. It smears as an elongated fingerprint, leaving a fine silky silt on my fingertip. Apparently the frost did evaporate, but only after road dust coated the wet surface of the crystals and left their imprint in dust on the car.