I slept over at Toph & Charlie’s and woke up to a quiet house. We went out last night with a friend of mine from grad school and had a blast drinking and laughing in the summer air. And then we came home and drank and laughed some more. Everyone else is sleeping it off.
I’m still on east coast time, so I woke up with the sun and padded into the kitchen to make coffee. Decan Bear followed me around the house and then came over to me on the couch, staring at me with hopeful eyes. I knew exactly what he wanted. I broke the rules and let him curl up on the cushions with me. He’s a big furry dog meant for snow covered mountain life, so he doesn’t often allow major snuggling because he gets too hot. But he let me curl up next to him and put my arm around him. I laid there quietly, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine for a while as I whispered in his ear how much I missed him and how he’s a good dogbear. He licked my face and wagged his tail and snuggled closer.
The birds have started their frenzied chirping and off in the distance I can hear a train rolling down its tracks. From the upper deck here, you can see past the houses down the street to the tree-lined hills. The fog is settled into the pines, waiting for the sun to bake it off. It’s crisp and cool, but I can feel this afternoon’s heat coming already.
I can’t imagine a better start to the day.
In the mornings, we sit in the garden. We drink coffee, read the internet, chat about the news and the markets. Dad hollers out crossword clues. The cat comes by to meow loudly.
It’s been warm and breezy in Portland since I got here. The sun is hot, but the air is clear and free of moisture. I could sleep outside, it’s so perfect. It also smells good. I forgot how the abundance of trees make the air smell green somehow, like they’re reminding me that they’re here and working hard to make the air breathable.
The colors are crazy, too. My eyes forgot how crisp the sky can look, so blue and bright and clear that it’s hard to look away. And there’s that crazy neon of chlorophyll in the grass, a solid reminder of photosynthesis, set against the evergreens on the hills. It’s as if the invisible processes are just more apparent here. Or maybe I’m just slowing down enough to pay attention to them.
Either way, every sense of mine is simultaneously shocked and comforted by home.