I keep forgetting things.

One thing was that I like finding the ways that seasons echo one another, or other places that nature echoes itself. Tonight it was the way the silhouettes of nearly bare trees look almost identical to the silhouettes of trees whose spring buds have just begun to form.


AND I FORGOT THE OTHER THING.

Spring.

This morning I was informed that the red welt-looking spots around my right eye are likely poison ivy, and shortly thereafter I found a seed tick on my stomach.

A few nights ago, while walking Miley, I heard the trees rustling in the night wind. Do you know what that means? Leaves. When I came home, I found two inchworms in my hair.

Last night I and another person sat out on a curb drinking wine (I from my dino sippy cup*) and talking and watching the moon rise until almost 1 am, and the bats were swooping over the spill pond, and we didn't even freeze.

I'm pretty sure that it's spring.



Also: there is nothing like the smell of calamine lotion. It ranks right up there with sunscreen on the "summer smells" list.



























*who, it occurred to me last evening, is unnamed. How have I allowed this to happen? I think he may be a Harold. Or a Ferdinand. Or perhaps a Harold Ferdinand, which will prevent me from having to make any decisions on the subject. It has a nice ring to it. Harold Ferdinand.

Camp.

I'm surprisingly tired tonight, and I'm babysitting so I can't sleep and can't do much of anything else either, and it seems like I've been jumping from one topic to another in my mind. Being bored. Being upset about Marcus. Being upset with Marcus. Missing David. Missing R-MA. And now, missing Camp. So much. I miss the greenness and the water. The tall trees standing so close together, and the dusty gravel on cabin row, and the cool stream running straight through the middle of Camp, always ready and waiting to cool feet, to rinse caving clothes, to facilitate a swimming lesson, to host an Alkulana Challenge, to act as a meditation garden for a midnight swim. And the sound of the creek is omnipresent, and the green of the trees is everywhere. At lunch in the dining hall, you can look up at the ceiling and see the sunlight reflected off of the creek below. And the water is so clear that you can stand on the bridge and look down and watch the fish swimming over the rocks, and the crayfish moving cautiously through the pebbles. I miss the blackberries that grow in the patches of sunlight that fall onto the path back toward little lodge, and I miss the rope swings and the bullfrogs calling and the canoe trips more than I can say. I love sleeping every night with nothing more than a screen between me and the night air, with the moon shining down onto my face, and the water music floating up the hillside, and the night breeze blowing through the trees above the roof, and the sweet sounds of children sleeping a few feet away. I miss the slamming of screen doors, and I miss pulling on muddy jeans and tennis shoes for caving, and I miss rushing to get the kids ready for their next adventure. I miss the bats in the night sky, and the sun setting over Jenny's little garden. I miss the rocking chair on Beth's porch, and I miss being able to walk down to the water with a bathing suit and a floatable bar of Ivory soap and just take a bath, if the showers were full.  I miss morning and evening staff meetings--I miss working with such wonderful people, and planning such great things for the kids. I miss paddling a canoe and singing Disney songs with Ryan at Lake Moomaw, and I miss swimming in the lake. I miss swimming in any lake--now Ouachita.

This past summer was so hot that the water in that lake felt like a bath, so we'd take deep breaths and drop down as deep as we could stand, just savoring the only taste of coolness we'd be able to find for hours. I miss the nights we stayed up for hours and hours playing Texas Hold'em, whether in the cabin or at a concrete picnic table by the water. I miss lying in my hammock in the hot summer shade. I miss the night I spent on the air mattress next to Chloe, and us next to Lenny and Larry and Ryan and Zyrone and Zorrell and Kim and Meghan, all sleeping quietly but me. Once I gave up on the idea of sleep it was beautiful to just lie back and listen to the thunder from across the lake, and watch the lightning flash. It was the only dawn I've ever watched all the way through. I've said before that dawns are not like sunsets, and it's true. We all know sunsets, I hope, but dawn seems so much slower. The moon sets, and midnight's bright stars begin to go out, one by one. Soon the darkness seems less complete. The tree shapes blur, then sharpen against the sky, and color slowly seeps back into the world. Then you blink, and realize that the sky is bluer, and that the East is lightening slowly. Once this happens, regardless of whether the sun has actually risen above the horizon, it's soon bright enough to be called day. On that morning, Pup came out and looked over his field of sleeping grandchildren with pride and satisfaction, and took a picture with a disposable camera. I heard the click and crank of the plastic. I love that man.
And after I got up, I walked down to the water for a goodbye swim, and a high, complete rainbow arced over the lake, delicate and perfect.

I miss the green and blue and brightness of it all. I miss the warmth and the wetness. I am ready for summertime.

Playing catch-up.

I need a haircut. I have split ends, but I don't think that's ever made me go get a cut. The issue now is that my hair is long enough that it's beginning to get on my nerves.


I thought Food Lion was supposed to be 24 hours, and I was counting on it being 24 hours last night when I suddenly got a crazy apple juice jones at Kelly's house around 11. I can't really explain that. We were watching The Big Bang theory, and Sheldon poured himself some juice, and suddenly I just had to have some. I knew the Wal-Mart near where I'm house sitting would close at midnight, and the one near my house was further out of the way than I wanted to drive, so I went to Food Lion. And it was closed. Luckily, Walgreens was still there for me, and only a little bit farther* up the road. They only had the small individual bottles, but that was okay. I got two of A.J. and one of apple cran raspberry, the existence of which I had never suspected. I haven't tried it yet. I'm a little worried about it.



This is only about a 50-50 chance right now, but Sara might be able to come with me to Festival International. I don't think it's possible for me to explain how awesome that would be.



This one I've been forgetting for a week: Layla wrote a book! She had an assignment for school to write a five-page book with a sentence and a drawing on each page--but she'd never written a sentence before. She and I started and she finished with her mom and grandmother. She sounded out and wrote (and illustrated, of course) "Princess Jasmine walked home. The prince went to meet her. She stopped to look at the birds. They met and lived happily ever after. Then they had a beautiful baby girl." The story is called "Anastasia's Life." In case you don't know or don't remember, Layla is just barely six.



I'll miss the stark drama of the bright moon and bare trees, but the full and lush branches of the summer months have their own magic. Right now it's easy to tell by looking up through the sharp silhouettes of the midnight trees which ones gauge seasons by daylight, and which by temperature. The tips of so many tree branches are swelling with new growth or buds or even flowers, but there are still a few holdouts standing dormant among the fallen petals, knowing that this freakishly warm weather isn't necessarily the equivalent of spring. They will wisely wait until the days have actually lengthened enough to justify using their stores of energy to put out leaf buds.

As much as I love the flowering trees, it seems a little odd to me that there are so many that are flowering right now. I would have thought that natural selection over the years would have at least shifted the balance in favor of those that wait for more daylight. Maybe this is because (sometimes) getting a head-start on the other trees gives the flowering trees enough of an advantage in terms of reproduction to keep the balance (apparently) in their favor. Or maybe there just isn't as much of a difference in survival rates as I feel like there should be.


























*No, I have not learned the difference between farther/further. I should, and I've considered it, but usually when I've looked for it I've found "it's complicated and nobody pays attention to that stuff anymore, so you shouldn't worry about it." I'm not sure whether I've ever actually seen the information laid out, but I guess if I have, I didn't spend enough energy to memorize it.

Thoughts on what I do.

I have always been one for pulling things together--science and religion or groups of friends, mostly. I try to make everything fit together. I try to get all of my friends to be friends with one another. I try to get along with everyone. I try to find ways to make the craziest theories and cultural mythologies line up, and I don't see science and Christianity as being as irreconcilable as people tend to claim. I am not good at straight lines, but I am a master of blending. And I want to believe in everything. Maybe because I don't usually make things up, I want to find the origins of everything--every word, every song, every turn of phrase, every belief and story. Maybe some came from nowhere. But why are there so many fairy tales, so many religions? Why not one or the other? And why is North America so full of ghost stories, when in other countries no one believes in ghosts at all? In Zimbabwe they aren't even discussed--but almost nobody swims, because the fear of mermaids is very real, even in fresh water. (Zim is landlocked, by the way.) And how do we align science, not with religion, but with the things that just happen, that don't line up with much of anything? And it's not just hearsay. I've heard plenty that can only be backed up by the words of my friends--miraculous healings, ghost stories, and so on--but I've experienced some myself, too. I've mentioned them before: I dreamed the future, once. That is, I think I've dreamed it many times, and remembered in deja-vu type moments, but I dreamed and remembered before the event. I dreamed of a stone and woke up with it in my hand. I heard someone calling my name when no one was around. What are those things, and things like that? Magic? Some natural force that science doesn't yet understand? Communiques from some higher being?

I have no idea. I couldn't and can't control or reproduce any of them. But there's no way that the "that's impossible" argument will ever convince me of much of anything.









Side notes:

There is just nothing like standing in a forest and looking up at a perfectly clear night sky. The trees stand tall and true, their gnarled limbs pushing and pressing upward forever, with the stars glittering through their strong fingers. I can't get enough of it.

And there is just something about holding a piece of fruit. It feels alive, magic. Bananas don't count--no seeds, no magic. But apples? For a while in college I used to take an apple from the cafeteria every day and bring it with me to psychology. I'd just sit in my seat before class and hold it in my two hands and look at it and smell it and adore it. And then eat it.

I know, I sound completely insane. Still, that doesn't change the truth of the matter. Fruit is magical. Seeds are magical. How could something so small become a tree*?

Anyway, oranges work too. We have oranges, and I held and adored one the other day before eating it. Magical, and far tastier than cheap cafeteria apples. (Actually, I only took an apple when they broke from their usual granny smith/red [un]delicious pattern. So the ones I ate were decent.)



Lastly, it has been brought to my attention that I gleefully referenced "The Book To Come Before The Book That Will End All Books," and frustratingly neglected to mention its actual title. (No, it isn't actually called TBTCBTBTWEAB. Sorry if that was confusing.) The Book is called Towers of Midnight, and was written by Brandon Sanderson using notes left for him by the late Robert Jordan. I finished it Monday night. It was excellent. I am toying with the idea of reading it again, since I clearly rushed through it the first time (840-some pages in two days is rather a lot, even for me) before returning it to the library. If you like fantasy, and if you like book series that go on forever (as I REALLY do), I highly recommend the series.















































*In another age, I probably would have been a druid. Hopefully the kind that didn't ritualistically violently murder people and leave them in random swamps like the Bog Man.

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All I'll say on the subject, I promise: the night is so gorgeous tonight. So clear! So much sky! So many stars! And the trees are magnificent.

Has it been since Thursday already? Oh. Oops. Well dinner (ish--I had half a pitiful sandwich and a smoothie at Tropical Smoothie) with David was okay. I think possibly I realized that It (capital I, referring to the two of us) isn't a good idea. Obviously I have come to this realization before, but what I mean is that possibly it's beginning to take. Isn't that something?


I think I also mentioned that the Book To* End All Books was sitting at the library with my name on it. It wasn't on the hold shelf--it was behind the front desk. The reference librarian who found it for me thinks that "it just got put there," but personally I believe that they were afraid someone would just walk off with this most precious of books.



No, I'm serious. Do you know how many holds are on that book? When I requested it, on November 27th, there were already sixteen holds. It came out on November second. I didn't expect to get it until March. 2012. And the thing is eight hundred and forty three pages long. In hardback. The fact that I have it in my hands right now is very little short of a miracle.



An aside: vanilla iced cream with cocoa powder right before bed is a horrible, horrible, completely delicious habit.



























*Come Right Before The Book That Will

ice

shortly after 2 am I stumbled out the front door with leaden feet and a dog leash clutched in one fist. eventually I began to realize that I was passing most of this walk with my chin tucked down into my chest (no doubt a subconscious message that any person in her right mind would be tucked into blankets just then, rather than scarves), but when I convinced myself to lift my head I could see that it was (is) a beautiful night. the sky is purple. purple! and the stars are, of course, just lovely. sleet obviously has its downsides, but in the small hours every tree branch gleams in the porch lights, and the liriope*plants looked like dim green sea anemones underfoot. Walking on the thick frozen grass felt pretty spiffy, but it was less fun to hit a spot that had been tire-flattened earlier in the day, and slide on the ice-slicked ground. another note: wind chimes on an extremely early january morning sound pretty mystical. That sounds horrible. "Mystical" is not the word I want to be using, but I'm not sure there's another that fits better. You know? When you picture wind chimes, it's sunny and hot, 3pm on a july afternoon. (it's 3. f capitalization.) hearing them in the dark cold of january is so unexpected, and somehow a little amazing.


I noticed on the way to work tonight that the ground was all frosted. it irritates me a little that when you read this, you'll read "frosted" as a reference to cake, when actually cake frosting is almost certainly a reference to the phenomenon I was noticing on the grass. worse, if you're really doomed (like I evidently am), you'll hear "frosted" and think of the "ladies, frost yourselves" diamond commercial from "how to lose a guy in ten days." /shudder.


okay, TO BED. for real this time.






























*Evidently I've never written that word before. Had no idea how to spell it. Thank you, google.

Consumerism

Did I mention that I want to buy Badger Balm stuff? I want to buy everything they have on sale at their website, plus a few other things for good measure I'm sure. And a large percentage of the Burt's Bees catalog. Also I just finally ordered that one pair of boots, now that I've finally printed out the return shipping label for the ones that didn't fit. Sort of like a reward program for good behavior. Also I paid the balance on the phone bill last night, which felt nice. The only trick here, of course, is making sure that there is money remaining in my account. I am keeping an eye on it and trying to keep my hands off anything by Badger Balm.

Did I mention that a tree limb fell through our roof last night? Luckily it missed the a.c. vent and failed to come through the ceiling of my parents' room. The claims adjuster (adjustor?) was here this morning, and we're hoping to have it fixed before the next rain, courtesy of my mother's roofer friend Ann.

Camp staff retreat is this weekend, and I have been trying to figure out when I am supposed to meet Laura so that we can ride up together. I am bringing Miley with me because there would otherwise be no one around to walk her except Jack, and possibly also because I am soft in the head. So we'll see how that goes.


I am feeling really jittery at the moment. Possibly due to a lack of sleep? We were all up until 2 am or so, for some reason.