Tuesday, April 13, 2004
It rained pink petals this evening.
I left the Queen Anne community pool feeling buoyant and quiet. Another Hydro-fit class. I really have become quite addicted to them. Truly. My legs feel more powerful than they have since the car accident. And I can see the difference in my arms, which seem sculpted and lighter. All from simply playing, and jumping around like a frog in the forgiving water. Evaluations are due tomorrow, and you'd think I'd be jumping in a different way. But instead, I'm waiting for dinner to finish cooking, and I'm writing to you.
So when I emerged from an hour-long class, and another chat in the sauna with the denizens of Queen Anne, the sky had grown ominously dark. We've been blue-sky gifted these past few days in Seattle. Easter Sunday was azure blue and nearly 85 degrees. I just turned my face into the sun and smiled. Everything felt lighter. Itself. And in spite of cowering reports from weathermen the past few days, it hasn't started to rain yet. Except, when I walked into the growing darkness of this evening, I could feel the difference in the air. Rain coming. Wind brewing. Flat grey skies approaching.
The wind must have blown mightily while I was inside, because the entire sidewalk was covered in pink. Spindrift piles of pink cherry blossoms lay plump on the concrete. Across the windshields of cars. In clumps on the lawn of the middle school across the street. It looked like it had snowed. There was the same expectant hush as newly fallen snow. Something shifting. And everything pink. Above me, the sky was that rich dark blue--crepuscular blue; Gabriel blue; Sikta blue. And I smiled on my way to the car. Spring is here, and I'm feeling alive.
I left the Queen Anne community pool feeling buoyant and quiet. Another Hydro-fit class. I really have become quite addicted to them. Truly. My legs feel more powerful than they have since the car accident. And I can see the difference in my arms, which seem sculpted and lighter. All from simply playing, and jumping around like a frog in the forgiving water. Evaluations are due tomorrow, and you'd think I'd be jumping in a different way. But instead, I'm waiting for dinner to finish cooking, and I'm writing to you.
So when I emerged from an hour-long class, and another chat in the sauna with the denizens of Queen Anne, the sky had grown ominously dark. We've been blue-sky gifted these past few days in Seattle. Easter Sunday was azure blue and nearly 85 degrees. I just turned my face into the sun and smiled. Everything felt lighter. Itself. And in spite of cowering reports from weathermen the past few days, it hasn't started to rain yet. Except, when I walked into the growing darkness of this evening, I could feel the difference in the air. Rain coming. Wind brewing. Flat grey skies approaching.
The wind must have blown mightily while I was inside, because the entire sidewalk was covered in pink. Spindrift piles of pink cherry blossoms lay plump on the concrete. Across the windshields of cars. In clumps on the lawn of the middle school across the street. It looked like it had snowed. There was the same expectant hush as newly fallen snow. Something shifting. And everything pink. Above me, the sky was that rich dark blue--crepuscular blue; Gabriel blue; Sikta blue. And I smiled on my way to the car. Spring is here, and I'm feeling alive.
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