Monday, February 23, 2015

The Year Without A Summer

Suddenly I was aware that just a week before, it had been darker and colder out at that hour. Feeling somewhat lighter, I decided to walk the rest of the way home, leaving the queue behind.

The next morning, I stepped outside into enveloping warmth under an untroubled sky. The landscape was yellow-gold, pink-white and green. Was it like that yesterday? Near my feet, I noticed a daisy much more perfectly formed and colored than the ones surrounding it, and without thinking, I plucked it from its home and took it with me...

As the day grew warmer, my carrying hand was slickened and I checked to see if I'd still had hold of my lovely little flower. I did, and it seemed none the worse for wear. Nevertheless, I tightened my grip slightly. It won't be long 'til it's this warm out first thing in the morning, I thought.

At mid-afternoon, as I rested in the shade of a maple tree, I unfolded my fingers to admire my gentle prize and found nothing but a lone petal. In violent haste I crawled desperately around my resting spot, looking for my lost treasure. I stood up, ready to retrace every step I'd taken since last seeing her, but to my great relief, she was just a few feet away, out from under the shade, lying in the sun. I scooped her up and was on my way.

Before long, I noticed storm clouds gathering in the sky. A sudden chill was in the air and the late-afternoon breeze surged, stinging my eyes. I made my way back home and just a block away, I felt a large raindrop pelt down on my cheek. And then another... By the time I was standing sheltered on the porch, the grass and flowers everywhere were being drowned.

 How fortunate and grateful my love must feel for having been rescued from such a fate.

I unclenched my fist and found her gone, not even a petal remaining. Without shame, I ran back into the deluge looking everywhere and seeing nothing but ruination. I began to shiver; chattering teeth and aching muscles urging me home. And, so I returned to the porch, looked back one last time as the merciless, deafening beat of the downpour on the tree leaves mocked me. Then I went inside.

I recovered by the fire with a glass and a tune. Even by the time I'd tucked myself into bed, the storm had not passed.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Not Done Yet

I dated myself in that last post, so let me take this opportunity to say that I do think Rock n' Roll is alive and well, thank you very much.

Being from Portland, Oregon and always wanting to support bands from there and the Pacific Northwest in general, here are two that are still making great music into their 40s; nice to know that people my age can still be hugely relevant in the rock world...

The Decemberists (Portland, Oregon)


Sleater-Kinney (Olympia, Washington)