The lichens cling to the trees like lime-sherbert colored legwarmers, mysteriously luminescent against the sodden clouds. The clouds hurry by, dressed in their charcoal hues, as harried and serious as bankers. Looking west, the foothills of the coastal range occasionally break through the clouds and appear to float in the sea of low lying morning fog. Later in the day, the sun will break through, blindingly rebellious and briefly triumphant against the incessant moisture. The light then is brighter than ever, reflected from the ubiquitous puddles, streams, and dripping trees. Downtown, on sidewalks and in traffic, errands are forgotten, phone calls are ignored and vast collective squinting is undertaken. Lasting just long enough to rummage unsuccessfully for sunglasses, the sun retreats like a missionary, leaving only damp pamphlets with hollow proclamations of good times to come. Like a tribe of savages shown a video of Liberace in vegas, we fear that life could be a bit more exciting somehow if we knew where to get a rhinestone or two.
things that make winter in oregon possible:
1) a dehumidifier.
2) wool
3) beer
4) friends
5) hot tubs
stella update: walking, running, walking on tiptoes, walking backwards, spinning around, climbing, hiding, singing, exploring. she's very tidy, maybe from living in the airstream, but she cleans up messes she makes and puts her toys away (most of the time). a little shy these days but warms up to strangers quick. lots of words, dada, mama, nala, doggies, cheese, book, milk, yee-haw (thanks to sam) and bonzai. the toilet is still exciting but mostly as a place to sit while fully dressed or store unwanted toys. mostly cheerful, a tantrum here or there. we've decided to renew her contract and will keep her on for the next season.