Tissues stuck in every pocket...tissues left scattered like a trail of bread crumbs that lead nowhere. Juniper, cottonwood...oh, the horror! Whenever the heat comes on I start to sneeze, pollen and/or dust rising like warm air straight into my nose. I like spring. No wait, I hate spring. If I wipe my nose on my shirt and then take it off, will the neighbors see?
(Oh, like you never thought of doing it.)
The days warm slowly; pretty soon I can turn the heat off for good and resume normal breathing. I really do like spring. Or I will--any day now.
In the meantime, I am not mysterious. I sneeze loudly. They can hear me coming a mile away.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Spring Forward
Back from CA...all green and soft and squishy; beautiful but I missed the desert, I missed edges and the grain of rock and plants that poke you in the ass and sunlight that presses against your skull. Plus, just too many people.
The good: Death Valley!!!!!! (see above); elephant seals, sea stars; public transportation in the Bay Area; anti-war signs outside shops...try finding that in Utah. Conservative Utahns would be appalled at the sentiment, but equally so at the idea of having a sign at all. Traditional Utah presents a bland, smiling, non-threatening face to the outside world; the politics is internal to church & home, whereas in California--at least in the Bay Area--I felt like there was a public sphere.
Even though there were way too many people inhabiting it.
But I'm back in the desert, plants are greening...I pulled my first weed today. I can feel that creaky axis tipping, tilting under my feet. I stand with open hands, feel the sunlight on my face and think, it's about time.
The good: Death Valley!!!!!! (see above); elephant seals, sea stars; public transportation in the Bay Area; anti-war signs outside shops...try finding that in Utah. Conservative Utahns would be appalled at the sentiment, but equally so at the idea of having a sign at all. Traditional Utah presents a bland, smiling, non-threatening face to the outside world; the politics is internal to church & home, whereas in California--at least in the Bay Area--I felt like there was a public sphere.
Even though there were way too many people inhabiting it.
But I'm back in the desert, plants are greening...I pulled my first weed today. I can feel that creaky axis tipping, tilting under my feet. I stand with open hands, feel the sunlight on my face and think, it's about time.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Event Horizon
Quiet time...dogsitting again...it's too damn cold but at least the dogshit in my backyard is frozen. I snarl and bark and show my teeth to keep Zeke out of my way, when he is in my way. Which is just about always. I guess you could say I'm not a dog person.
I have a tiny photo of Frieda Kahlo in a box on my windowsill. It's next to some shells from Australia. In my mind I am far away from here. Somewhere without dogs.
What is it about winter? The cold eats your bones. Last month's snow shatters into smaller and smaller pieces but never seems to go away. Now that the holidays are over it seems like these short brittle days will never end. I need to go someplace warm (without dogs) or have a massive infusion of chocolate, or both.
Well, the Giants are still in the playoffs and I saw a robin today. So I guess there's hope. In two weeks I give the dog back and head out to the coast. When I get back it'll be not quite spring, but almost. The earth is tilting. The sun sliding along the horizon. I wait, incrementally, like a cold, grumpy, dog-hating seed left over from last year. I know my time will come.
I have a tiny photo of Frieda Kahlo in a box on my windowsill. It's next to some shells from Australia. In my mind I am far away from here. Somewhere without dogs.
What is it about winter? The cold eats your bones. Last month's snow shatters into smaller and smaller pieces but never seems to go away. Now that the holidays are over it seems like these short brittle days will never end. I need to go someplace warm (without dogs) or have a massive infusion of chocolate, or both.
Well, the Giants are still in the playoffs and I saw a robin today. So I guess there's hope. In two weeks I give the dog back and head out to the coast. When I get back it'll be not quite spring, but almost. The earth is tilting. The sun sliding along the horizon. I wait, incrementally, like a cold, grumpy, dog-hating seed left over from last year. I know my time will come.
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