2015 has proven to be eerily sunny thus far. Believe me, I will take the break from gray, gray, and even more gray (I mean, I'm embracing the gray but sometimes it is hard), but at some point it starts to feel like spring and I worry about our planet, I really do. Also, selfishly, you cannot flirt with perfectly blue skies and 60 degree weather and not make me long for spring, full on. Dipping back into gray and cold is going to be a sad affair indeed. Sadness for me, relief for the planet. I guess I can handle that tradeoff.
I've been taking advantage of our sunny days to spend more time on my bike. Portland is known as a bike friendly town, and it truly is. It's only a couple miles from my apartment over to the Rhododendrom Gardens near Reed College, a twisting path under tall trees and past ridiculously picturesque houses. Portland, why are you so photogenic?
I really like these ferns growing out of the side of a stone wall. It just seems so romantic, and also a testament to the life that will remain once humans disappear from this planet (as I imagine we will one day, as so many species before us have done).
I mean, really. This looks like California in February. California is a thousand miles south. We're so far north that the sun's rays purportedly can't even convert Vitamin D within our bodies, that's how weak the rays are. It cracks me up to think of these rationalizations for spending time in the sun. I grew up with a father who has a strong aversion to the sun. Whenever we're out, Dad can be counted on to head for the side of the street with the most shade. (This is the man who is already wearing one of those floppy brimmed hiking hats for a turn around the block) "Like a homing beacon," he jokes as he jaywalks towards the shade, angling his steps to maximize his time in the shade on this side of the road, and then to catch that tree halfway across the concrete.
Inevitably, some of this has rubbed off on me. Then I moved up here and realized that if one did not log an adequate amount of time in the sun while it was here, one would end up with a severe, severe case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. The solution?
Knitting in the park. Exactly ;-).
The second time I came, my friend and her daughter joined us. Z was born a month before I moved up, and R+T were the only 2 friends I had up here when I moved, so this past year and a half I've had the privilege of watching her grow up. Amazing. I do hope for a family of my own one day, but as I don't seem to be moving very fast in that direction, I've taken it upon myself to put Plan B in motion: ingratiate myself into the families of my friends with children via the role of Spinster Aunt. It's been good so far.