There’s an advantage to heading out for an early morning walk before the sun appears; it is found in sunrise scenes such as this one. These moments are tiny fragments of the day, barely lasting 5 to 10 minutes before they fade from existence. Maybe our alarm clocks should be tied to color sensors placed outdoors that alert us when certain spectacular hues are being painted overhead. It happens relatively often that we’ll nearly miss a sunset before one of us catches a glimpse of radiant skies to the west that demand we run outside to witness the last glimmering beauty found in the sky from the setting sun.
Weaving Workshop
Starting March 13th, Caroline joined an online 3D Weaving Workshop. That morning she joined a Zoom meeting hosted by Sally Eyring from Boston, Massachusetts, and for 3 weeks on Saturdays, she was busy for a full 7 hours. Now, I wasn’t around for these “pandemic-safe” workshop days as I headed over to my favorite coffee shop for my very own writing sessions (often gab-fests, to be honest) allowing Caroline to participate uninterrupted by a looming husband (hope you enjoyed the dad-humor pun).
This particular process of 3D weaving is a technique developed by Sally Eyring, the instructor, and required some very special tools to make this happen. Some were supplied, such as bungee cords and mitten clips, others Caroline had to find, such as empty gallon water bottles and thread weights. It turns out that having a week between classes was ideal because it allowed Caroline to become much more familiar with the processes instead of the more typical 2.5-day workshop where participants cram everything in between Friday and Sunday afternoon.
The workshop attendees got to choose their own projects. Caroline picked the “bolster pillow.” She wove a sample, trying out different things, then cut it off the loom to see how it was working and to decide on which particular patterns were her favorites. Once that’s done she’ll continue by weaving the actual bolster pillow cover. By the way, weaving samples is typical as it allows the weaver to experiment with different parameters before proceeding with “the real thing.” After the final product has been made it seems likely that Caroline won’t be returning to this technique, but she enjoyed the opportunity to learn something new while discovering that online weaving workshops are viable alternatives to meeting in person.
Vaccine Anyone?
This past Monday early in the morning Caroline logged into Arizona’s COVID vaccination website on the hunt for an appointment to at least get me vaccinated, as she’d been doing every day for the past couple of weeks. At 57 years old, obese, with diabetes and high blood pressure, I’m not the person who wants this ugly virus. Much to our surprise, she not only found an empty slot, but she was also able to snag a second appointment for herself 10 minutes after mine. We’d heard that the sites weren’t being strict on scheduled time so we showed up 45 minutes early and were waved right in.
Along a serpentine path around a series of buildings, the barcodes of our appointment verification emails were scanned in and the confirmation number written on our windshield. At the next checkpoint, we were asked about allergies, those with allergies had yellow caution tape tied to their driverside mirror. Not having allergies, we were told to continue driving through the gauntlet of volunteers. The next question was if this was our first or second shot, we continued to the left with other first-timers. The person at the final checkpoint asked all of the questions all over again while also inquiring about our current health condition and if we’d had COVID already.
A few feet forward and a cadre of volunteers verified our data, handed us vaccination cards, requested we open our doors, and asked us to raise our sleeves. The time of the injection was noted on our windshield, we were congratulated on taking the initiative to get this done and asked if we’d like to schedule our second shot, we said yes. The morning of April 7 will see us back here at the same site getting another gentle little jab in the arm. We were told to pull up further once more.
We pulled up behind some other cars and someone wrote on the windshield when we could leave: 11:30. Caroline and I have now been vaccinated with the Pfizer-BioNTech mRNA vaccine and so far we are seriously happy to be halfway there to having the recommended dose that will hopefully offer an ounce of protection against the worst effects of COVID-19, should either of us contract it at some point in the future.
At 11:30 we were asked how we were feeling and with a confirmation of “all good”, the attendant cleaned off the notes from our windshield that followed us through the entire process and we were off to find us some lunch. While this all took a minute to finally get the appointments, today went surprisingly smoothly. Now we just need a few billion others to get the shots and get our planet back to normal which is kind of new and still unfolding. I’m curious what exactly it might look like.
Wet Things
Yesterday, it rained across Phoenix, and in a desert where that’s a relatively rare occurrence, we celebrate the little we get. While others find the rain to be an inconvenience, the population of our city often steps outside to experience the rain firsthand. Sadly, we have become a bit cynical, though, as when the weather forecast predicts rain, even with a 90% chance, we will be skeptical that it will actually do so. Last year was not only one of the hottest, with the most consecutive 110-degree days and the most 115-degree days overall, but also one of the driest years on record. Over the past six months, this lack of water has been most obvious in the number of dead trees throughout our neighborhood.
Cinderblocks and asphalt, with very few undeveloped lands around the Phoenix area, have created a heat island that is changing our weather. The effect of houses and streets on the environment is the most obvious when we walk around the block and find that the air near some wide-open state preserve land is noticeably cooler than in the developed area next to it. Instead of trying to conserve water and limit growth, Arizona is attracting a lot of people to move here and not curtailing the use of water for pools and golf courses. I just read that the corporation commission will be raising our water rates by 6% this year, which seems to be the typical increase for the past few years as if paying more, the biggest users will curtail their use. How greater profits equate to filling rivers, reservoirs, and aquifers is beyond my puny brain.
So, on these rare days when it rains, we have to pause and appreciate that this stuff can still fall from the sky like magic. Not only does it glisten in the sun that peeks through the clouds, but it also ignites an explosion of wet earth smells from petrichor to creosote and various woods that seduce those of us outside our homes to celebrate the occasion. I should admit that there is one downside to the rain: Those of us who wear glasses will likely never get used to the droplets that turn into rivulets sliding down our field of vision. Yeah, I know, wear contact lenses, and the problem is solved, but that is not congruent with my brand of laziness.
Glorious Things
The universe is the first thing that comes to mind when I consider the glorious nature of what I can perceive. The sun and earth are next in the hierarchy, followed by the environment around me. To get out and bask under this glow is easily forgotten when we are consumed by entertainment beamed into our homes and various electronic devices. We’ve never met a sunrise that failed to impress us, nor have we been less than dazzled looking up on a clear night to see with our own eyes the vast Milky Way we’ll never fully comprehend. I’ve never assumed that the configuration of the clouds on any given day is a repeat of any other day in my life or the history of the planet, but what do I think about the stellar clouds of the massive band of stars that stretch deep into history?
Just like the palm fronds that rustle in the wind and then settle back into nearly the same place, I should consider the almost invisible shift of all the matter, dark matter, and various gasses out beyond our solar system. We are, after all, moving at 515,000 mph here in our corner of the Milky Way, and from one night to the next, we have traveled 12,360,000 miles, and while our eyes are not sensitive enough to recognize the difference, in some way, maybe we are presented with new configurations that are nearly as significant as how the clouds change from day to day here on our puny but glorious planet.
The moral of this story: Never go outside thinking it’s just another day. You are alive in a vibrant universe of constant change, and for the briefest of moments, you are here to witness the contrast of things you barely comprehend.
Beautiful Things
Early morning on a quiet walk through our neighborhood is the best time to appreciate all the beautiful things along the way. While the sky is still transitioning from dark to light, the birds are just starting to welcome the day with songs and chirps that bring trees, cactus, roofs, and powerlines into focus. Some trees sound like hundreds of birds have been roosting overnight hidden amongst the foliage. Just this morning we spotted a cardinal, grackles, doves, pigeons, hummingbirds, woodpeckers, some small, obviously non-native parrots, geese, and assorted other birds.
Speaking of the geese, their honking has only returned this week as they are heading to wherever it is the geese are going here at the beginning of spring. We often catch the call of hawks before we see them but haven’t seen any for a couple of weeks now. The mockingbirds have made themselves visible once more which is strange as they are not migratory, but over the past 5 or 6 months we couldn’t find hide nor feather of them and then today or maybe it was yesterday we saw (or rather, heard) that they are back. For that matter, we haven’t seen hummingbirds for a long time either, and then all of a sudden we’ll spot them darting about.
Then there was that coyote about a week ago that lept right over a 6-foot cinderblock wall and like an apparition from another dimension was gone in a flash. On the other hand, there’s this semi-obstinate donkey named Lucy that some days will bray at us as though it’s excited to see us, while on others it will throw a glance from the far corner and stand there sulking as by now it’s well aware that we don’t bring treats. When Lucy does trot over she gladly accepts head and ear scratches. One of the donkey’s neighbors is a horse that’s trying to be social but doesn’t seem to want to be petted and would prefer that we would accept some nibbling of our hands.
Depending on our walking route we can see upwards of a dozen cats, none who are responsive to our attempts to coax them into a nuzzle. Penny and Bella are a couple of dogs who by and large no longer bark at us and will even wag their tails as we walk by, but if I should walk directly towards them they let me know that the wagging tails are a trap that triggers wild, angry barking.
Now combine all of this life with the still cool morning air, half a dozen hot air balloons drifting across the sky with some pink and orange clouds catching the rising sun, while those aforementioned orange blossoms from an earlier blog post punctuate our first encounter with the new day and you too will hopefully understand our appreciation of all these beautiful things.