Yes, it has rained. It started three days ago.
It is very sweet rain, the kind that sounds like sugar being poured from a bowl onto a wooden table. But, where I come from, when it rains, you stay inside.
So, I cozied in, which by last night, while trying to figure out how to make something yummy with two eggs and a plastic box of wilting power greens, was beginning to feel a little like a blossoming psychosis. If I hadn't run out of coffee beans this morning, I might have figured out how to live on butter and water and used tea bags.
Hermit Syndrome, I'm calling it (aka avoidant personality disorder). When you have no where to be, no one expecting you to look lively, absolutely no promises to keep (I know most of you are unable to imagine such a scenario), it begins to feel like a pretty great way to live. There is zero discomfort required: no shoes, no raingear, no extrovertish behaviors.
Books, a reading lamp, a down comforter and two eggs with wilted greens. Who could ask for more?
Except. I need coffee.
Showered, shoed, path charted to the Useless Bay Coffee roasters, I promised myself this afternoon I'd be back at the cabin in less than an hour with my darkly roasted beans, some fresh bread, and something proteiny. If I hurried, I would also miss the next scattering of showers.
But I got stuck behind a yellow-line-painting truck with a sign very clearly instructing me to stay off the stripe it was freshly painting. (Also worth noting, the truck was painting a double yellow line, so passing was illegal? I'm guessing even in a state where you can smoke weed freely, the double yellow line means business?). Rather than creep along behind the paint sprayer, I veered (my side of the road) toward a nursery that promised it had a cafe buried somewhere behind the Shrubbery for Sale - 30% off.
I stepped out of the car with skepticism. Coffee at a nursery? (welcome to the Seattle area)
Finding the cafe required some wandering, which turned out to be exactly what my reclusive hermit's heart needed. Hermit Syndrome, as you might imagine, is not especially breathtaking. Walking through the Bayview Nursery on Whidbey Island is.
Humerous side note - I kept wondering why apples were scattered everywhere, and decided the nursery was Earth-lovingly encouraging bees to thrive. Yep, I forgot apples might be falling from trees in Washington state.
|Apples in the wild, kids!|
From Bayview, it was a 5 minute (yellow striper finished) drive to Langley, aka Perfect Seaside Town. Shopkeepers are friendly old hippies, gelato is crazy delicious, and the walk along the seawall (Puget Sound wall) is like the best kept secret in America.
Apparently, on a clear day, there are mountains on the horizon. Probably fabulous...but, oh my soul, these clouds!
Driving back to the cabin (3 hours later) I hit rain more like water running out of the kitchen faucet into an empty cereal bowl than sugar falling softly onto a table. But, guess what? People in this part of the country don't worry about it. They're out and about. Not darting from place to place and fussing with umbrellas - just pulling up their hoods (click on it...actually saw this today) and carrying on.
I kinda love it.
Fact: My home city, Austin, receives 50 days of rain a year. Seattle, 152 days.
Another fact: Rain makes things grow. And the natural world 'round here is stunning.
Ponderable: Could I stand 3x rainy days?
Maybe. Even inside, the view is lovely...
|Greeting card seen - and purchased - today in Langley, WA.|
Peace, dear ones. Wishing each of you such a sweet mix of solitude and natural wonder and heart-skipping inspiration.