Autumn

Image courtesy of Dan / Freedigitalphotos.net

You have to love the fall...

The scarves...

The shoes...

The cute jackets...

The soup...

The flowers...

The fog...

(Well, maybe it's just me who loves the fog.)

But I'm ready for it to get here already.  C'mon, crisp, cool weather.  I can't wait for the brisk mornings kissing my cheeks as I clutch a warm coffee in my hand.  Of course, the sun is always shining (after morning fog slowly burns off) in my oh-so-realistic imagination that paints my fall.  And, of course, I never get tired of hearty soups and potlucks in my head.

Berries!

Blackberries are coming....

So are blueberries....

Aren't they pretty?

Too bad the birds got to almost all of the raspberries.  (I managed to pick two before they were gone.)

Nights in the rainforest

A sunny day as I enter the Amazon basin

It is commonly accepted that the white noise of nature is soothing and helps one relax.  Many people in the world use nature sounds to lull them to sleep every night.

I decided to join their prestigious ranks.

This decision was mainly based upon the fact I like to listen to music to fall asleep.  However, it could possibly be said that the music that appeals to me on certain nights does not lead to restful sleep.

My solution:  Rainforest sounds.

Perfect, right?  I mean, the rainforest is my favorite place on earth (somebody should tell the fiancé before it's too late and I make him move there).  There's nothing like laying there and hearing the rainforest swelling around you, enveloping you in it's humid grasp.

So, what did I do?  I downloaded several rainforest tracks and when it came time to place my head down on feathers and let sleep claim me, I was ready.  The unmistakable rise and fall of the oropendola's call flutters to my ears and assaults me with memories of the impossible task of trying to sleep early mornings with oropendolas nesting right next to the camp.   The burping call of another feathered friend reminds me of pensive moments along the riverbank.  The intermittent rain reminds me of the sudden storms while out on multi hour treks and how we used gigantic banana leaves as makeshift umbrellas.  The soft humming of the huatzin's four stomachs reminds me of how their mismatched oddities came to be familiar with each trip to the lagoon. The cadence of various birds shifting across the background dredges up memories of early morning bird tours in tiny dug out canoes, as well as afternoons sitting at camp watching the Indigenas playing soccer.

I miss the jungle - the sights, the sounds, the smells of it.

The night track brings me back to every night I lay on my mattress, enshrouded in my mosquito net that didn't always quite keep the bugs out if the door wasn't zipped completely closed at all times.  I remember wolf spiders in the showers, cicadas of surprising size that paid a visit to our evening candlelit cuarenta games.  A bewildered marsupial who waddled into our haphazard kitchen one evening, and on another, our surprise visit from a nocturnal monkey.  There were times where I just sat and looked at the stars in the night sky.*

Night falling in la laguna after fishing, a swim, and bird watching.
After dark, we search for caiman.

Memory after memory came back to me as I lay on my bed:  The snooty German who insisted on leaving after the first intolerable night filled with insect noises.  The friendly Germans who used me as a translator when our guide spoke no English.  The American couple on their honeymoon.  The Ecuadorian couple who were newly dating.  The one man who snored so loudly no one slept at night.  Walking through the swamp and misstepping into water up to my knee.  Searching for anacondas to no avail.  Waiting for various bugs to crawl off of me (most notably the wolf spider, but there was a conga ant on a trip before that - they have a nasty bite).  Catching a blue and orange fish on accident.  Grating yucca.  Letting bright blue butterflies land in my hair.  Spotting a double rainbow twice in the same day.

Things on the verge of being forgotten seeped their way to the forefront.  This, perhaps, isn't a good way to sleep.  I have a rather active imagination and what used to be a good memory before grad school.  Laying in a dark room listening to sounds from my past transports me back to every moment I spent there.

On one hand, it makes me homesick.  But...it does bring a smile to my face.

What is not happening at night is sleep.  My mind awakens with memories of the mysterious swirling through the dark.  If I want to sleep, I might have to switch to ocean waves...or maybe just rain.

*I've done it with binoculars on several occasions.  Ever tried?  What we perceive as merely dark sky isn't, when you look through binoculars.  Instead of being covered by a blanket of stars, we are at the bottom of a million-mile-high pile of them.  It's breathtaking.

Kung fu frog

If you know me, you know I love* animals.

All kinds of 'em.

Especially the hoppy, colorful sort.

Someone out there has an amazing eye.  And luck.  To catch a frog in mid jump (he has to be a ninja) is pretty awesome.  This might be my favorite frog picture.  Ever.

Source: 500px.com via Rebecca on Pinterest

*Not love in a "I want to house you and feed you and confine you to a box" way.  It's more of a "you're such an incredible creature and I'm fascinated by you" type.**

**And no, I am not a stalker.

Fog

Source: flickr.com via michelle on Pinterest

I don't know what it is, but fog makes me happy.

I realize it makes 99% of people upset, annoyed, frustrated (you name it).

But I enjoy it.

Fog blankets the earth in it's dense grasp, offering serenity in it's fingertips.  Today, as I drove to work, my world was pure gold.  When I clicked off my radio, the day was silent, as if on the verge of a new rhythm.  Beyond the cars alongside me, the world was calm.

I didn't see cars flying down the side streets.  No traffic lights blinked at me.  I didn't see people running toward various destinations.  No bright signs flashed at me.

It was just calm.

Of course, foggy days make me think of this song.  Don't get me wrong - it's a beautiful, upbeat song, and it mentions fog...but, well, the title is "Perdidos en la noche" aka "Lost in the Night".  So, obviously, waaay off.  But, well, it's Diego Torres, and he's happy and upbeat and every foggy day, I think of bruma and this.

Brazilian travels

I'm watching Globetrekker. Tonight it's a peppy British woman who overreacts to everything she puts in her mouth, which is a lot, being that the show is featuring traditional food of Brazil.

Not surprisingly, she loves the vast majority of the food. The main exception is the really dumb things, like randomly grabbing a fruit from the Amazon and shoving it in her mouth. Of course, it turns out that that is the bitter one that needs to first be cooked.

I really shouldn't watch traveling shows. It makes me crave traveling yet again...and reminds me of my mouthwatering exploits. (There's a triangular, cotton candy-y white fruit on the ecuadorian coast that's unlike anything I've ever tried...and don't get me started on passionfruit...or mora ice cream.)

The biggest distraction - this lady should really add a bra to her ensemble.

But really, my advice: pass on the fresh coconut on the beach. It's bitter and smelly, and not in a good way. I will take one of those hot Brazilian men strutting by on the sand, though. Oh wait, did I say that?

Where am I?

With it still being dark at six in the morning when I return from the gym, the world seems different.

Take this morning, for example.  The moon is behind clouds and there's not a star in the sky.  My yard seems dark, being that the porch lights are dim.  It's not too late in the year for the sprinklers to be running, though.

I walk up to the door, and it's mostly quiet...but the sprinklers are going in the garden pressed against the porch.  The garden features fat, red blossoms and large, dark green leaves.  It's dark.  It smells like water.  I see plants and tropical flowers.  I hear water.

For a split second I feel like I'm in the rain forest.

Okay, maybe my imagination is too quick at inventing new adventures.  (It takes about 0.00000001 second before it's veering off in a new direction.)  But I had the weird feeling I was there.  Perhaps the jungle is calling me back.  Maybe it's my longing to go to the rain forest again... to see the monkeys, walk for hours among millions of trees, catch a piranha or two...

Maybe I'd even see a pink dolphin again.  They only live in the Amazon, you know.  Or perhaps I could encounter another anaconda sunning himself in a tree.

Close, but not too close, to a lovely little big friend

I quickly shook off the moment and stepped through the door.  I know I'm not near any tropical forests.  I just want to go back.  (Who's with me?)

Rainy days

It's rainy today.

It makes me crave soup.  And tea.  And a good book to curl up with on my bed.  Or in the chair downstairs where I can watch the rain splash down.

Rain can make the world a happier place.  I know that traditionally rain is thought to be depressing, due to dark clouds and heavy downpour, but it's comforting at the same time.  It's familiar.  It's enduring.  Rain always comes, always goes.  It nourishes the earth and the plants that bring me my delicious food.  (Yay for comfort food!)  It trudges along with it a feeling of peace, of sameness.

Hearing the rain brings back memories of so many other days inside listening to the rain beat down as it bears witness to the mundane.  Yet the memories bring the mundane to life again, and give it a spark, an unending "this is life" feeling.

What do you think?  Does it make you happy or depressed to hear the rain on the window?

Who cares about the environment?

I do!  I feel rather strongly about it, to be honest.  But I won't wrestle my way onto my soapbox at this point.  Instead, I'll let this beautiful song by Gloria Trevi tell you...because frankly, cause and effect, people.  Cause and effect.  If we don't take care of the earth, why do we think there won't be an environmental backlash?  Our actions have consequences!  (So recycle!)

Espanol: Y ahora te sorprendes
Fui para ti, un haz de sol, calida brisa en tu piel, fresca cascada...
Y yo te di los colores de un bosque en Abril y mis frutos de un busto sutil, una estrella de mar y mi aroma de tierra mojada.
Y a ti, te dio por volverme cenizas por arrancar de raiz tanta vida, por contaminarme del cielo hasta el suelo - corrompiendo el aire hasta hacerlo veneno.
Y ahora te sorprendes, con el trueno de mi voz, el diluvio de mis ojos, y mi amor en extincion.  Y ahora te sorprendes, por que todo se acabo, te sacude un terremoto ahora que te digo adios.
Fuiste Tu. No Fui Yo.
Pues Yo te di una aurora para compartir, una estrella para pedir un deseo para ti,
No habia nada que yo te negara y a ti te dio por hacerme pedasos, por ensuciarme el futuro, el pasado, por contaminarme del cielo hasta el suelo - corrompiendo el aire hasta hacerlo veneno
Y ahora te sorprendes, con el trueno de mi voz, el diluvio de mis ojos, y mi amor en extincion.  Y ahora te sorprendes, por que todo se acabo, te sacude un terremoto ahora que te digo adios.
Fuiste Tu. No Fui Yo.
Fuiste Tu. No Fui Yo.
Fuiste Tu. No Fui Yo.


English:  And Now You're Surprised
I was for you a sun beam, the warm breeze on your skin, a fresh waterfall...
I gave you the colors of the April woods and the fruit of a subtle bust, a starfish and the scent of wet earth.  And to you, I gave for you to return me to ash, to tear out the root of life, to pollute me from the sky to the ground - corrupting the air to make it poison.
And now you're surprised, by the thunder of my voice, the downpour from my eyes, and my extinct love.
And now you're surprised, because everything ended, you shake with an earthquake now that I say goodbye.
It was you.  It wasn't me.
So, I gave you a dawn to share, a star to make a wish for you.
There wasn't anything that I refused you, and to you I gave, until you return me to pieces, dirty my future and my past, pollute from the sky to the ground, corrupting the air to make it poison.

And now you're surprised, with the thunder of my voice, the downpour from my eyes, and my extinct love.

And now you're surprised, because everything ended, you shake with an earthquake now that I say goodbye.

It was you.  It wasn't me.

It was you.  It wasn't me.

It was you.  It wasn't me.

And now I'm inching away from the confines of my soapbox...but give the environment a thought...(and save the rainforest!)

Learning something new

The sun is outside to play, clouds are sulking around the corner, and the day sparkles with adventure.  Brilliant blue beckons at the soul to come out and play.

After a late, lazy morning, filled with huckleberries and pancakes, one can only hope to partake in the something new that twinkles on the horizon.  The air is warm and softly teases pink cheeks as the sun laughs down.

It's a lovely day to be alive, to breathe in the scent of pine as you manage yard work.  Today is warmer than the past few, more lively, and happy to see you.  Fall is on it's way, but summer has yet to bid it's final farewell.  Once again you can leave the house clad in shorts.  Tonight will be warm enough to enjoy a picnic in the serenity of the backyard with the company of friends or a good book.

And so today, before the evening warmth comes, it is time to meander along the river and let peace flow over you.  Of course, if you should happen to wander off the Centennial Trail and climb on the rocks along the shore, new items will delight you.

Grasshoppers jump hurriedly away from you...bugs swirl on top of the water...mini waterfalls spread around you as water cascades between rocks...and if you look over toward your companion, you might happen to notice a reddish tint in the water.  Peering a little closer from your perch on top of a boulder, you notice it looks a bit like a lobster.  Curiously (yet gently) poking at it with a stick to 1) see what it really is and 2) show your friend where you're looking, it darts down.

It is a lobster!

Okay, well, technically a crawdad/crayfish/crawfish.  It's surprising how red his body is, as he stumbles along the murky rocks.  After a few minutes he disappears from your view on your vantage point.  Who knew there were crawfish in the Spokane River?  Kind of neat, actually, although surprising, given how contaminated the Spokane River is.

They do say you learn something new every day.

Stopping to smell the ...er, moon?

The sky was beautiful last night...so I decided to snap a picture.  I really liked the eerily silhouetted clouds when the full moon ran behind them.

(Honestly, my camera died and the camera on the iPhone 4 is nice, but not professional type quality...and maybe being in a moving car isn't conducive to picture taking.  Moon shots don't work out so well.  So this is the best you get.)

Oooooh, aaaaah.

Isn't it pretty?  Did you check out the sky last night?

Deadly Attacking Fish!

I just so happen to worship the sun.  Yes, I sprawl on a towel and roast myself.  I hardly ever burn, so that's my excuse to everyone who's screaming what about cancer?!?! to their computer screens.  And yes, sunscreen is my friend.

Anyways, for a few days this July one could find me out on the dock bombarding my skin with sun rays.  The problem with this is that it gets hot.  Now, typically, when I get hot, the solution is to go for a quick dip in the water.

Side note:  I should have been born with gills.  I was raised with a pool and spent summers at the Lake... swimming has always been a natural part of my life, and my parents yelling at me to get out of the water already has always punctured my summers.

I very much enjoy being in the water...even 56 degree water.  I have a couple of pictures (somewhere) of me swimming in said water.  While I was at the Lake this summer, the water was around 56...perfectly acceptable for me to climb in.

So, day one, I'm out on the dock and beginning to roast.  Time to cool off I think as I crawl over to the metal ladder. 

It looks inconspicuous enough, right?

I'm about halfway into the water when something sharp strikes my foot.  What the... I glance toward my foot just in time to see a fish darting back towards the dock.  Uhm, that's new.  This occurrence urges me out of the water.  As kids how many times did we imagine fish that would eat us?  All the time.

Or what about that time J. was screaming that the minnows were going to eat him as he floated on the inner tube...?  ...That's another story...

I content myself with having been halfway in the water.  Oh well.  So there I lay, reading and sleeping until the sun goads me into the water again.  Alright, well, the fish is probably gone by now.  I get down to the second rung again, and feel a sharp strike on my foot again. Grrr.  Stupid fish!

The psycho attacking fish!

I'm not getting in the water.  The manfriend went to wash his face and the fish came to attack. Uh, hello... Not safe...the little bugger.  I don't think so, we're not getting in that water.  As I contemplate my options, I watch him chase off a few other fish that swim by.  One fish he manages to scare off is at least 1 1/2 feet long.

No matter what, this little guy is not leaving his territory right beneath the ladder.  Too bad I don't own a fishing license so I could catch a nice little dinner. Who am I kidding?  I won't eat him.  I just want him to let me swim.

Why did he have to choose under the dock for his nest (or whatever his reason for being there)?  Why not here?

It looks perfectly nice to me.  Or what about over there?

Or even that way?

Anywhere that would allow me to swim...

Ah well.  I'll make up for my inability to swim by roasting marshmallows over the fire.  The big ones. You know, the ones that are the size of your fist to begin with and swell up to the size of your head.  Those.

After note:  Upon returning from the Lake, I talked to my brother about the fish.  Apparently they're rampant up there this year.  A lot of deck owners are pestered by little mighty fish of their own.

Disconnecting and reconnecting

The scent of nature: wood smoke, trees, moist earth, the occasional berry...
Hearing waves lap at the shore, quietly rocking you to peace in their mantra.  The wind rustling the leaves into whispered songs.  Oh yes.

This is the Lake.

Hmmm.  I can't wait.  Nights full of stars (and hopefully fireworks tonight!)  Roasting marshmallows hey, when you find something you're good at... and enjoying the tranquility that comes from removing yourself from distractions.

You can go a place for years, and still encounter something new that touches your soul... such as this:

Have you ever seen something this gorgeous?  Okay, it's more striking when not seen through a zoom lens. But either way, it's beautiful to behold.

I'm off, for the next few days, to reconnect with nature and disconnect from technology and stress.  So long!  Enjoy a few slow moments of the summer.