Quick Shifts

Tree at Marymoor Park

This morning the sun was almost painful, brilliant against the lake as I ran.  It was like this a few days ago as well, but I was out earlier and the sun seemed more poured against the land than just blazing.  Today, at a later time and higher arc, it was almost too much.  I still have to take pictures along the trail, but I haven’t yet.  Lou had to go to an appointment in Redmond, and she dropped me off at Marymoor Park to wait.  The sun was bright and warm against my back and I found a picnic table beside a park and among the evergreens.  By the time she picked me back up it was the grey of clouds right before rain, and the wind had picked up to cut right through my optimistic skirt. The weather shifts almost instantly here. And I love it, even if I do get caught in the rain or with too many layers on beneath sun.  I’ve been working on Body of Climates with Dave and his friend for a few weeks now, and I wasn’t really sure how much continuous text could be written about the weather.  It was (and is) an experiment, and I think it’s working well.  I don’t find weather to be a banal topic of conversation in the least.  For me, the weather is a way to share the world I’m in with other people.  Some people don’t want to talk about the weather, but it’s around me constantly, and I can’t help but fixate.  One of the advantages of working the admissions desk at the Museum of Flight is the large glass wall that’s to the right of us.  We can watch the weather change and still be protected.  There are still some leaves left on the trees, and when it’s sunny the yellow glows against the dark brown of trunks and soil.  Often there will be sun against the ground and grey clouds in the sky and it reminds me, for some reason, of plunging into a cool pool.  I think I am easily swayed into water so I can find similarities easily, but the contrast of the hills to sky is like that of warm skin and the sudden and pleasurable shock of water surrounding you.  Yesterday the sky was a pale robin’s egg but clouds hung low and around us, turning into downright fog by the evening.  It’s these contrasts and juxtapositions that I love here.  

river near the gates at Marymoor

I wish I could write more, but I haven’t been reading as much as I’d like to be.  I’ve been finishing up Through a Universe Darkly, and I have a bit more incentive to finally get through it because I know someone to lend it to now.  Lots of information about nutrinos and telescopes filled with bleach at the moment, but Bartusiak writes about it better than I can.  I do, however, want to find the engravings that Thomas Wright used to depict the Milky Way as a disk of stars.  The image credit puts says they appear by permission of the Durham University Library, so maybe I can find a way to ILL them.  Photocopies plus a transfer marker would be great fun with my collages.  

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