Trailer Trash

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How did... (Read 53 times)


Uh oh... now what?

    Spring arrived on March 20, 2013 at 4:02 a.m PDT, here in the Pacific Northwest.

    I have scheduled summer's arrival on June 20, 2013 at 10:04 p.m. PDT in the same locale.

     

    With e-mails from friends complaining about snow as recently as last week it is hard to believe we are halfway through spring (in my northern hemisphere world). It was only last week that I finally went down the trail with only one shirt (and shorts) on. Gloves, unneeded for the past two weeks are still in the back seat--just in case.

     

    I was doing repeats on the bluff trail that has only three or four shaded spots along its three miles. I passed one couple on both directions of my first loop--a smile and hello were exchanged. On the third meeting I stepped off to let them by. The woman laughed and said she was surprised at my stopping because the runners she knows don't like to stop. I pointed at Mt. Rainier, just over one-hundred miles away, dominating the skyline of the Cascades; moved my finger to point downward at the waters of Puget Sound--only several shades of blue today, no hints of grey or green under this sunny sky; and that led to pointing across to the whiteness of the snow covered Olympics. I said I always have time to stop and look. The guy asked how long I had lived here. I said a little over eight years.

     

    "How long did it take to get used to it?"

    "I haven't. I don't think I ever will. How could you ever get used to it?"

     

    They smiled and walked on. I went back to shuffling, then running again. "How could you ever get used to it?" rattled around in my head. The past four days I have adjusted routes to check for where the rhodies are blooming--if at all. We are having an excellent crop of stinging nettles this year, but the flowers are slow to bloom. The blooms of April that I am used to were not here this year.

    We have not seen the monstrous ships full of people yet. We knew the birds were "late" going north, but do the cruise ships wait for the weather too? We learned not to go out on Sunday afternoons because those giant floating motels would clutter up the strait. I got to bluff's edge once, saw a string of five of them and just turned to run back into the forest.

     

    We have gotten up at two, three, even four o'dark in the morning in the hope of seeing the northern lights from one of the prairie trails. The predictions are just often enough to tease us. The successful sightings so rare that the excitement and accompanying oohs and ahhhs are new every time. Two nights ago it was Jupiter, a sliver of the moon, and Saturn in our westerly night sky. Spring changes with the sky, or the sky with the season or whatever it is I am supposed to remember about it--sunset crossed the 8:30 line last night. On the next full moon we can run into sunset and use the light of the moon to come home long after most have gone to bed.

     

    A week back and our run was interrupted by the beet harvest. We have about two miles of crops to pass on the way to being away from things. Without ever having our knowledge verified we have become experts at what the farmers are doing. The big red thing eats beets and potatoes. The yellow thing drives around and around and later really tall grass comes up. When the van with the porta-pot on its own trailer arrives the cabbage patch gang is here. It is an international prairie. The cabbage seeds go to Japan. Some of the beets go to Canada. The pumpkins go inside one of the big red barns--later to be fed to cows. Is grass-fed beef better than pumpkin-fed beef? Weeks and weeks of arguing, trying to think of a meaningful bet, about the grass places go by as we wait for the grass to get tall enoug to see if it is oats, barley, or wheat. One year they fooled us and planted triticale--just when we were getting used to things.

     

    The ever changing spring will bring the boredom of summer--except for the newborn deer; the big-eyed spotted sided fawns; except for the goslings and ducklings learning to be geese and ducks; except for the baby bald eagles, already almost three feet tall, poking a head up from the nest--all waiting with no patience for time to pass so they can run, swim, fly... they have things to get done, as do we. We have a printed calendar with season's ends marked; they have calendars a million years old with no marks and neither of us will ever get used to where we are.

     

    rgot

      You paint a picture that really makes me want to visit the PNW.  (Something tells me I'll be out there sooner rather than later...) 

      MadisonMandy


      Refurbished Hip

        Only just in the past few days have the trees begun to have leaves again here.  I'm still adjusting to the new green, but it's wonderful.

        Running is dumb.

        aplodder


        Susan

          Nicely written.  I really hope to get to the PNW someday too.  It sounds just beautiful.