Strange and balmy

 

 

The temperature got up into the mid-60's yesterday, smashing Seattle heat records for the day. I drove along Alki Beach and children in shorts were playing in the sand. I'm surprised no one was swimming in the Salish Sea, because people here love jumping into cold water. It will be slightly cooler today before things get back to normal tomorrow (cold rain.) 

I got the Moderna Covid Spikevax yesterday (what marketing genius came up with that horrible name?) then spent a miserable night tossing and turning, alternating between shivering and sweating, with body aches and pounding heart. 

Well, I should have some damn good immunity, because this morning I feel like I'm recovering from Covid. Kind of unbelievable, but neither of us have ever actually had Covid, at least not that we know of. We faithfully get the shots once a year, so as not to jinx our luck. 

We are headed into a very busy time. I have more follow up doctor appointments and tests (sigh) but we are also looking forward to a trip next week to visit my dear sister Marji and our family in Utah. More on that later. Then Thanksgiving gets squeezed somewhere in there, also back-to-back Sunday afternoon Symphony concerts in busy November. Why? Sometimes winter months go by without a single Sunday afternoon diversion. Other than football. 

Anyway, things will all work out as they always do, when taken one day at a time. 

“So, what if, instead of thinking about solving your whole life, you just think about adding additional good things. One at a time. Just let your pile of good things grow.”
 

― Rainbow Rowell, Attachments  

 

Gardens in autumn

 

 "Autumn in the Flower Garden," by Yoshida Hiroshi, 1876-1950

The Garden, by Sara Teasdale 

My heart is a garden tired with autumn,
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark,
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark;
Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain—
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten—
After the stillness, will spring come again? 

 

 

 

The Orb

 

The Orb is a biofeedback training device I bought from Amazon on a whim. You hold the soft ball in both hands with finger tips on the sensors, which then measures instant biometrics like heart rate variability and pulse. It connects to an Bluetooth app (of course) which gives you feedback on your nervous system reactions and tracks progress over time. 

As you hold it and watch, the color coded feedback rings range from purple (very alert) to white (very calm.) So far, I've only seen white for a few seconds at a time. But I'm new at this. 

The idea is to simply observe what you are feeling body and mind as the colors transition, which it does pretty rapidly at first. The harder you try to attain the white ring of Nirvana, the quicker it transitions back to stressful purple. Well, that's not much of a revelation. "Forcing" yourself to relax is counterproductive. 

On the other hand, you could also get yourself a stress-relieving funny little pet. Time again for some cute doggie pictures from Carlton. 

 

 

 Glad to see the girls haven't spoiled Yoko. Ha ha. 

The falling leaves

 

 

 

 It was a stormy weekend and when I finally got out for a walk, the sidewalks in our neighborhood were covered in leaves; we've finally reached the end of the gorgeous fall colors. 

 

No large deciduous trees in our yard, unfortunately. Those beautiful dry oak leaves are fun to rake up and make nice mulch. On Saturday I had to content myself with rotting figs and heavy wet leaves. I just piled them on top of the new tulip and hyacinth bed like a cold wet blanket. They are already thinking about sticking their heads up. 

 

After that I hosed the fig slime off the birdbaths and bricks so it looks better for now. Not that anyone (except me, the birds and squirrels) are out there this time of year. 

 

 

What do you think? The most beautiful and saddest fall song ever written has to be "The Autumn Leaves," sung by Nat Cole.

 

 

More like it

 

 

That's the Seattle radar map this morning and into the foreseeable future. The weather gurus are predicting a wetter than usual month, and that's really saying something when it comes to November in the Northwest. 

Marooned Without a Compass Day is today, a November 6th holiday. How is you sense of direction? Mine is so pitiful and all the compasses in world probably wouldn't help. If fact, GPS Siri leading me like a blind person has probably made it worse. Those creased maps we used to carry about in the glove box were better for our brains. 

But on another level, this is also a day to pause and check in on your core moral purpose and faith, your inner compass, and especially when life feels out of control or overwhelming. 

Rainy day thought: 

"Everything in this world happens with a purpose. You are born in this world with a purpose, you are chosen by purpose.” 

Udai Yadla, A Walk in the Rain

Have a good weekend. 

Going local

 

We use the online encyclopedia Wiki almost daily, but did you know they also have a spin-off site called Local Wiki.

It describes itself as "Wikipedia, but only for things a half-hour walk from you." 

Just enter your zip code or address, and see what shows up as neighborhood highlights and attractions. 

In 98116 for example, Madison Middle School (the bane of our parking existence) is grandly described as a "landmark school" with a 100 year old history. Schmitz Park is listed, that time capsule of nature and old growth trees in West Seattle, a few blocks from our house. And so on...

It's interesting reading impartial descriptions of places you always take for granted, and what you can find out about your home turf.