Cliff Mass reports on his excellent weather blog the sad truth about the very chilly Seattle weather we’re still in the middle of:
During the last month only 3 days have reached or exceeded the normal maximum temperature, while over half the days have had minima below the normal lows. We should have highs in the mid-50s now.
But chin up. Saturday looks like it’s going to be warm and sunny enough to pacify even frosty, rain-booted me.
Meet me at the Doug Fir near Canada…
Took a long walk around Capitol Hill Sunday, to Oddfellows and back, and caught up with some sledders on Denny.
Vintage Mt. Rainier postcard, circa 1950
Thundersnow hit the city around 5:30 this morning, which was about the same time I realized this thing about being family.
D has a chest cold. He’s all coughs and sighs, and I was up and down with him all night. At one point in the early morning, I thought about how as a kid my mom would sit with me all night when I was sick. I’d always felt a mix of love and chagrin back then, when I was the taker.
And now I’m understanding, being in that role of caregiver to D, that sitting up through the night is such a simple, even good, practice. I know someone well enough to tell you when he’s asleep and breathing clouds or kicking through water. It’s a pleasure.
While I was thinking about this, I jumped. A huge clash of thunder shook the bed. I went to the window to look out and all at once I was a wounder, a wanderer, and a healer.
We live on the tip of Denny, one of the biggest hills in one of the hilliest cities on the planet. In my worrying head, a forecast of flurries overnight means that, while on his way to work, my husband will surely loose control of the wheel and chute-and-ladder from the top of Capitol Hill into Elliott Bay a mile down the road.
D drives to work very early, so before bed last night, I pulled out my pink stationary pad shaped like a hot dog and left him a note on our car: “DRIVE SAFELY & SLOWLY! I love you. See you tonight for grilled cheese.”
I fell asleep quickly and dreamt that D was losing control driving down an icy Denny like I feared. But right before the turn where the road ends and water begins, my hot dog note morphed into a giant safety net at the bottom of the hill. A hot dog-shaped barrier popped up from the road and became a meaty pillow, maneuvering our car safely away from the water.
Saturday night, after teeth were brushed and faces were washed, after we got water and put the chain on the door, we turned out all the lights and opened up the curtains in our living room. We watched a million flurries blot out the sidewalk, then laid down under an extra comforter and fell asleep with the back light of the building next door shining into the room.
With the glow from the building still on my face, I woke up when it was still dark and for a second thought that I was in some great incubator. Further west than West, water and trees arched toward a ceremony away from the snow, moving closer to flip-flopped cakes of lemony light.
