Sunday, June 02, 2013

a place where nothing ever happens

It's odd how the same weather that feels so gloomy while you are traveling, feels cozy and comforting when you are at home. A lot of it, of course, has to do with the fact that at home you are not expected to traipse about outside for hours. And hotels don't generally have lap kitties that keep you trapped in a comfy chair, while watching the sheets of rain outside the window. Perhaps they should.

The weather wasn't a complete write-off during the recent we(s)t coast oddyssey. We enjoyed a couple of days of only intermittent spitting during which we met with friends for dinner (twice!) and during which the Offspring took me to visit some new haunts. She always takes me to a new neighbourhood when I visit, and we walk and explore for hours. It's a great way to really get to know the city.

This trip we visited a dog beach near her house when I first arrived, and the next day explored an industrial area turned art gallery. Next to the industrial park was a community garden that began at the edge of a baseball field and spilled over into the next block where it met up with yet another community garden. The gardens meandered through trees and bogs, winding wood chip pathways beckoning you around the next mysterious turn in the forest., whimsical garden art tucked in amongst the chives and raspberry canes. 

After that the rains moved in, in earnest. So much so that we bailed on an outdoor concert, which was the impetus behind the trip in the first place. I still carry residual guilt over that one, but the evening spent instead curled up on the hotel couch watching Arrested Development, Archer and Bob's Burgers with the Offspring was pretty glorious. I have come to the realization that I am too damned old to spend my nights standing in the pouring rain with thousands of strangers, the majority of them no doubt eight-feet tall.

Now back home, I watch the rains of June move in right on schedule. From my favourite perch, I can look out the massive front window and feel in the midst of all the unaccustomed green, everything freshly washed and bursting with buds. Perhaps that's another reason why the torrential rains feel so comforting when home. After an early winter and a cold and very late spring, the high plains desert is finally springing to life . After all, around here our motto is "it's good for the trees".  

4 comments:

Eugene Knapik said...

It's raining off and on here too. I bailed on a foraging outing after oyster mushrooms. With the warm rain, the forests will be alive with mosquitoes today. I should be out in the workshop instead, trying to finish up the mountain banjo I've been working on, but I've had a lazy morning, mostly reading.

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Bailing to read is always a legitimate rationale, Eugene, particularly when facing rain/mosquitoes/real work.

John Mutford said...

We stayed in a cottage in Hawaii that came with its own cat. Slept on our bed with us and everything.

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Now that's a perfect example of value added cottage renting, John! It reminds me of a cottage we used to rent in northern Alberta, where the owner's dog used to come visit in the mornings and jump on the Offspring's bed to wake her up.