Blue

I used to love winter. Especially during the first couple of years after I moved to DC, I looked forward to winter with great anticipation. I loved the quiet and spaciousness, the open sky, dry air and moody storms that mark the season.

Over time, though, I've become very fond of the buzzy, noisy lushness of summer in the midatlantic. The bugs, birds, flowers, the tree canopy waving back and forth overhead in the breezes, the warmth and long days, thunderstorms - ah yes, I believe I've been converted into a lover of summertime, which might be why I'm feeling a little blue this week.

Fall will continue through Christmas, as it does here. There's plenty of color in the trees that still have leaves, and it's still warm enough to walk around wearing nothing bulkier than a jacket. Some days I also need a scarf. So I shouldn't complain, or maybe I should wait to get my dose of Seasonal Affective Disorder until January when it's really cold and dark.

Or maybe I should chuck my thoughts about how I "should" experience life right now and just let the blues wash over me. Why not? 'Tis the season, after all. Happy weekend, ya'all.

Decorated Manhole Covers

From Wikipedia:

A manhole cover is a removable plate forming the lid over the opening of a manhole, to prevent someone from falling in and to keep unauthorized persons out.

Although the covers are too large to be collectible, their ubiquity and the many patterns and descriptions printed on them has led some people to collect pictures of covers from around the world.

Despite their weight and cumbersome nature, manhole covers are sometimes stolen, usually for resale as scrap, particularly when metal prices rise.

The top pic looks like a hand to me. Below - as if someone put this manhole cover in a playpen. Wonder what it means?

Wordless

One of the things I'm appreciating about my current bout with Chinese medicine is the fact that if I can't find the language to explain exactly how I'm feeling, I don't have to. Today, when I could only shrug my shoulders in response to his questions, the Sufi acupuncturist abandoned the idea of a conversation and instead just put me on the table and "listened" to my pulses. In that way he learned everything he needed to know in order to proceed with the treatment. I love language and words, but sometimes it's such a relief not to have to talktalktalktalktalktalk.

Here, too, I can't seem to put any words together. It's just that kind of week. Sad that the option of listening to my pulses is not yet technologically possible on Blogger.

Oh well. Instead, here's one from a series I'm especially fond of, street pics of what we Americans call "manhole covers." (Who thought of that name anyway?)

White Knuckles

Thanksgiving weekend is over ... thank God! Two more holidays to go and I'm home free until next Halloween.

My plan to enjoy Thanksgiving was a solid one, and it's true that the weekend was much better than years past when I worked like a dog to the exclusion of all other activities, something that just made me feel resentful. Forcing myself to have fun, my determination to relax, even the Hugh Grant movies certainly improved the experience, but ...

But what? By yesterday afternoon I realized how exhausted I was from my efforts to Do It Right. No matter how nice I was to myself, still I was sad and lonely all weekend. I tried so hard to feel at home, in the right place. I tried with all my might to relax and enjoy the time off, to remember that I'm well loved and well regarded, that I'm really not such a freak after all. I worked hard, alright. And now I'm knackered!

Don't get me wrong - this past weekend was a million times better than it might have been, oh yeah! I'm not complaining, really! I'm very thankful to all the wonderful people I spent time with, to the tuna who gave his life so I could have a delicious dinner on Thursday, and to the gentle weather, falling leaves, clear sunshine and fleecy overcasts that made being outside such a pleasure.

It's possible that the problem I have with the holidays is not something that can be fixed. Maybe I'll refrain from trying so hard at Christmas, just let the day be what it is. Will that help? We shall see.

Unintentional Magic

Yesterday I had lunch and a nice walk with one of my favorite blog kin, Steve of Shadows and Light. My kinship with Steve is automatic, easy and completely comfortable. Just as with other blog kin I've become friends with in "real life," Steve is a person I would never have known if not for blogging. Thank you so much, dear Pod, for suggesting that I check out Steve's blog! And Steve - thanks for blogging!

Steve and I share a wavelength even though we don't really share the same aesthetic. It's a very interesting connection that made our walk so much fun. How interesting to see what he noticed and what he was drawn to, compared to what my eye picked up.

The city was deserted yesterday, making the walk from Dupont Circle to Logan Circle and up to the White House almost spooky. There wasn't even any traffic. It was really odd - like being in a movie. What we did, in essence, was "climb" the masonic pyramid, the street pattern designed by Pierre L'Enfant and the founding fathers (for reasons we modern Americans will probably never understand.) The Masonic pyramid is a well established pattern that our feet followed completely by accident. Very cool!

The performance art continued even as we waved goodbye, standing on opposite platforms of the McPherson Square Metro stop. Our trains arrived almost simultaneously, his heading one direction and mine the other. A poetic ending to our dance, don't you think?

Life is full of surprises and wonders. From out of the nowhere, apparently, any Saturday afternoon can suddenly turn into a Masonically inspired shamanic ballet. I love that! Thanks, Steve! Thanks Pierre, George and all the rest of the Masons! I salute the enduring power of your designs. Even now, a couple hundred years after you laid out the grid of streets here, they're sill compelling enough to trace by foot. Isn't that something? Yeah!

Inwards and Downwards to Deep Winter

At some point in late fall, usually right around Thanksgiving, the season lurches forwards all of a sudden, like a weather earthquake. The change of seasons is never smooth of course, but what I'm referring to is a particular jolt that happens every year at this time. It's not subtle. When the shift occurs, the story I tell myself is that Brother Sun has entered the earth where he can rest in the dark until winter solstice.

Usually this shift occurs over a period of about a week, but in 2007, it all happened in one 24-hour period. Yesterday was the day. In the morning, it was strangely warm, not like Thanksgiving at all. The air was soft and gold, the trees were gold, the sky itself looked gold - as if someone had upended a gigantic pitcher of sunlight over the whole city.

Late in the afternoon, as people all over America were sinking into carbohydrate-liquor-L.Triptophan induced stupors, Brother Wind ripped through Washington DC, bringing the gold in the trees down to ground level, clearing the heat and humidity. There was also a quick rainstorm, like an exclamation point, in case we hadn't noticed. Brother Wind was apparently in quite a mood.

By this morning, the pavements were buried under deep stacks of crunchy gold, (even the sidewalks that were just swept yesterday). The sky was bright blue again. It was cold, too, as it should be right now.

The sun entered the earth, slamming the door behind him, while people feasted and rested and watched Hugh Grant movies. Very cool. In this crazy, moody midatlantic swamp I call home, my fancy seasonal metaphors play themselves out literally. I love that!

Sleep tight, Brother Sun,. Sweet dreams 'till 2008. Goodnight!

Gold in the form of light, warmth and an avalanche of falling leaves arrived just in time for Thanksgiving in Washington DC. It is a perfectly gorgeous day.

Perhaps there are some folks out there who can dismiss the pure saturation of gold, though it's hard to imagine how anyone could ignore its perfection. "Glorious" is a word that goes nicely with the color gold. It's a fitting description of the world out there today. The birds are singing, people are smiling. What a Thanksgiving!

All is harmonious indoors today as well. One of my roomates just switched on some opera, a nice accompaniment to the smell of something in the oven - a cheesecake, I think - that they'll take to their feast later today. The dogs have all had very long walks and are napping peacefully.



I feel completely happy, grateful, content, even. I believe this is how I'm "supposed" to feel. Wow, so this is why people like Thanksgiving. I get it, finally.

All that gold outdoors, the sweet smells and sounds indoors and this newfound warmth in my heart are showing me, in no uncertain terms, that the Sufi acupuncturist is correct. I have turned a corner. I'm on the mend.

A cool front is going to move through later today, bringing some rainshowers and colder temperatures, a good thing. It's too late in the year for it to be this warm, but how great that it was anyway, just for today.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'all.