Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Ferrying, Painting —

Monday after work I went to have dinner with some family on the other side of the water, a long journey in turbulent weather, but then, I love turbulent weather. It was a drive to the light rail, then a walk, then onto the train to downtown Seattle, then more walking down to the ferry dock, then onto a boat for 35 minutes, more walking, into a car, finally arriving at my destination. Phew!

All worth it: glasses of wine and a slow-cooked chicken in tomatillo sauce, lots of laughing with my niece and sister and brother-in-law.

Then I reversed the itinerary to get home, with less turbulence but a walk through a very quiet downtown late in the evening, a little spooky. (I walk fiercely and with don't-fuck-with-me intention.)

But I must admit how much I love my city, and the patched-together transportation required to get to the other side of the Salish Sea. It's never dull, and the notion of crossing a large body of water so that I can dine with my family tickles me, really.

It's more than once I've been accused of being a romantic.

But O, this winter darkness is settling in, the last of the sun through the western windows at work today at precisely 4:26pm.

 The colors in the sky matched the colors on the glass I was painting: indigo blended into gold.

Crossing the water, painting the sunset: these small miracles of everyday.


  1. I'm afraid it takes a LOT to tempt me out at this time of year; even if it's just a few hundred metres away.

  2. yes, as elizabeth says--i was right there with you over and back.

  3. Yes you do. I'm thinking maybe of carrying mace when I do my nighttime walks. We have a moderately high crime neighborhood. What about carrying some spray in addition to your totally wonderful don't fuck with me walk?

  4. Reading this I am reminded that there really are no small miracles. They come in the one size only. xo