THE SAGA OF THE SUNCHASER AND THE DUCKPOND, SPINNING SPOKES AND PEELING PAPER

Ross went to Elko, to work at the 25th Annual National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, so I've had a weekend all to my lonesome.







The weather was amazing yesterday, and I'm feeling the new angle of the sun, so I took my bike out for a wandering sort of ride.












I ended up at Golden Gardens, where it seemed that everyone had their bulky, fancy cameras out, hoping to save up a little light for the next rainy day.



I really like the word "Shilshole," which is the name of the marina. Shilshole, shilshole, shilshole. I kept repeating it to myself.







The Leif Erikson statue reminds me of the statue of St. Louis, in Forest Park, back in good ol' St. Louie. Honestly though, despite his gigantic battle axe, Leif appears more proud and less violent than Louis, who I always found rather terrifying. Leif isn't wearing any armor, and his hair is half loose, instead of being all bound up in a strange helmety hood, like Louis', not to mention Leif isn't on a battle horse that is also wearing a helmety hood. Also, it appears that Leif's stocking are slumping a bit, and how can you be scared of a man in slumping stockings, even if he is made of bronze, and looms 20 feet above you, and leans on an axe as big as you?

SUNNY SIDE UP

We've hit a crazy sunny streak lately. Every night the fog rolls in, and every morning it burns off, leaving us with bright sun and cold temperatures, which I love. Last weekend Ross and I walked down to Madison Park. It felt, once again, like we were in a new city. This place is always reinventing itself for me. We've lived in this neighborhood for over a year, but there are still unexplored pockets within walking distance. That bridge there, cutting the horizon, is the one I drive across in the dark on my way to work.


I never see Rainier, since it is dark, and then kind of at my back when I return, but she's there, hovering.



I mentioned this--the river, the yellow trees, the view from the parking garage.

If I were a little tougher, I could ride my bike to work...I'd only have to get up at about 4 am.





I watched the inauguration in a lounge on campus with the few students and staff who weren't in class at 8:30 am. The TV was up on the wall, and behind the screen, just off the side, was a wall of windows. While Obama became our president, the workers outside unloaded a truck load of steel plates--the crane lowering and lifting, the men heaving and hammering. This part of Obama's speech was for them, although they did not pause to hear it:

"In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path toward prosperity and freedom."


After drinks with some friends in the new Oddfellows Cafe, Ross and I decided to check out the ballroom, also housed in the old Oddfellows Hall. There was a space for rent on the top floor.











We went back to Oddfellows for breakfast.

TS' former poetry student, Nicole, recently moved to Seattle from St. Louis.








Jackson and Ross were a formiddable Scrabble team.

But I beat them by 1 point.

THE WINTER AVERAGE

Sloan and Jenny took me out for a birthday brunch at their favorite spot: Silence, Heart, Nest. The lighting there was strange and lovely--it did seem like silence, and like a nest --maybe just because it was painted a sky-like color, although not like a Seattle winter sky.

But there was some kind of slicing going on in the kitchen. Or perhaps they were building something. Or cutting through drywall. Or maybe they were amputating a leg...I don't think I'd have been as fixated on the noise if I hadn't been thinking of silent spring skies, but my omelet was delicious. (And the sawing didn't last long.)



Sloan once made a papier mache cat to keep their real cat company.


I have taken a lot of similar, poorly composed, dark photos lately. What am I getting at?


Many are taken from inside looking out. Maybe I'm not getting at anything in particular; I am just lazy.

One week ago I was standing in the kitchen, half hoping for a snow day.



I took this one from the library of my new campus. The campus feels a little like a ski lodge to me, with those sloping rooftops, and the evergreens. From the parking garage you can see yellow willows and a stream that looks frozen, even though it isn't. On windy days the administration sends out emails warning us not to go walking on the paths for fear that a tree could fall on us.

I liked this book so much that I dressed to match it. (Thanks, Caitlin.)