found moments
Mar. 14th, 2008 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turbogrrlI've been trying to remind myself to look around and just breathe and soak it all in.
Last weekend, the weather was beautifully changeable and quick-moving. From nick's place, with its sprawling panorama, we could see clear sky, and squall line, and a grey blanket of nimbostratus creeping in. As we watched, the line came overhead, and then the rain started.
Nick frowned. Lunch in is starting to sound like a good idea. "Go shower." I said. "It won't be raining by the time you're dressed." You promise? "I promise."
I made good on my promise, and eventually we drove back to my neighborhood. In Adams Morgan, the sky was clear and sunny, brilliant blue with cotton-ball clouds. The other clouds, gathered on the Coastal Flats, were piling up like a snowbank above the fall line on 16th. We walked to lunch in the sunshine, but brought the Magic Umbrella. After eating, we walked back, still in brilliant sun. The air was heavier, though, and the breeze more brisk. Ensconced in my apartment, windows open to the breeze and the sun, we soon paid the price of meddling with the weather. One cannot wield the magic umbrella lightly. The wind gathered, the sun shone, and then: *plink* *thunk* *plink* *thud*. The hail started, not slowly, but all in a rush, and several ice balls bounced across the floor before Nick pulled the offending window shut. I stuck my face up against an open southern window, and just breathed, and watched the ice fall, so beautiful and bouncy.
A few minutes later it was all over except for the rain. "See?" I said. "That's what happens when you ask me to meddle with the weather."
...
There is a long stand of trees along montrose road, near executive boulevard. It's a fairly narrow stand, as these things go, but they're all a couple decades old and the swath stretches for about a mile, broken here and there by the occasional road. Birds love to roost in those trees. Sometimes, around twilight, you can catch a seemingly endless flock of birds, all arriving from the west, swooping and diving, melding and merging and combining and dividing- one seemingly singular organism, a muscular ribbon of feather and wing- the sky darkens, there are thousands and thousands- rivers and torrents of birds, black as sin, black against the velvet blue sky, at least a hundred thousand birds calling and landing like leaves on these bare trees so they bend and sway. Still more are arriving as one battalion takes off, followed by another, merging with the black river, floating out into the inky infinity.
It's... truly astounding. I press my face up against the window, and cock my head back, and watch the endless ballet.
...
If you take the formants of audible speech, and just play those channels back, on first listen it sounds like birds calling, and about as intelligible. And then, the brain teases out the thread of meaning, and the bird-call noise is recognizable, words coalesce, and I'm left wondering... what are the birds saying?
...
Snowdrops blooming, and small purple flowers on a hill. Ash on the car windshield. The feral alley kitten pauses, eyes glowing in the dark. "Hi, baby. Hi."
Exult in the moments around you.
Last weekend, the weather was beautifully changeable and quick-moving. From nick's place, with its sprawling panorama, we could see clear sky, and squall line, and a grey blanket of nimbostratus creeping in. As we watched, the line came overhead, and then the rain started.
Nick frowned. Lunch in is starting to sound like a good idea. "Go shower." I said. "It won't be raining by the time you're dressed." You promise? "I promise."
I made good on my promise, and eventually we drove back to my neighborhood. In Adams Morgan, the sky was clear and sunny, brilliant blue with cotton-ball clouds. The other clouds, gathered on the Coastal Flats, were piling up like a snowbank above the fall line on 16th. We walked to lunch in the sunshine, but brought the Magic Umbrella. After eating, we walked back, still in brilliant sun. The air was heavier, though, and the breeze more brisk. Ensconced in my apartment, windows open to the breeze and the sun, we soon paid the price of meddling with the weather. One cannot wield the magic umbrella lightly. The wind gathered, the sun shone, and then: *plink* *thunk* *plink* *thud*. The hail started, not slowly, but all in a rush, and several ice balls bounced across the floor before Nick pulled the offending window shut. I stuck my face up against an open southern window, and just breathed, and watched the ice fall, so beautiful and bouncy.
A few minutes later it was all over except for the rain. "See?" I said. "That's what happens when you ask me to meddle with the weather."
...
There is a long stand of trees along montrose road, near executive boulevard. It's a fairly narrow stand, as these things go, but they're all a couple decades old and the swath stretches for about a mile, broken here and there by the occasional road. Birds love to roost in those trees. Sometimes, around twilight, you can catch a seemingly endless flock of birds, all arriving from the west, swooping and diving, melding and merging and combining and dividing- one seemingly singular organism, a muscular ribbon of feather and wing- the sky darkens, there are thousands and thousands- rivers and torrents of birds, black as sin, black against the velvet blue sky, at least a hundred thousand birds calling and landing like leaves on these bare trees so they bend and sway. Still more are arriving as one battalion takes off, followed by another, merging with the black river, floating out into the inky infinity.
It's... truly astounding. I press my face up against the window, and cock my head back, and watch the endless ballet.
...
If you take the formants of audible speech, and just play those channels back, on first listen it sounds like birds calling, and about as intelligible. And then, the brain teases out the thread of meaning, and the bird-call noise is recognizable, words coalesce, and I'm left wondering... what are the birds saying?
...
Snowdrops blooming, and small purple flowers on a hill. Ash on the car windshield. The feral alley kitten pauses, eyes glowing in the dark. "Hi, baby. Hi."
Exult in the moments around you.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-03-15 12:52 pm (UTC)I am no weather-mage like you, but I am reveling in the glory of the change in season.
no subject
Date: 2008-03-15 01:14 pm (UTC)(sorry - that needs Safari 2 or newer, or Firefox 2 or newer to view)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-17 11:14 pm (UTC)