Thursday, May 30, 2002

There weren't any mourning doves at Colgate. I only realized this when I got back here and heard their low cooing. It's a constant background sound in the spring and summer. I think I missed it.

Amanda Hope -- 8:00 PM (linkme)

Tuesday, May 28, 2002

As I finished up my filbar run today, I glanced outside and saw that it was raining, hard. It was good luck; usually all the interesting weather happens while I'm stuck at the filbar for hours and is over once I'm done. So I went upstairs and punched out for lunch. I had a sandwich in the fridge that I knew I could eat in ten minutes, so I poked my head into the office and explained to my father that I was going to the bank.

He glanced out the window. "You know it's pouring out, right?"

"Yes, I know. That's why I want to go outside." He was amused.

In the rain on the way to the bank, I kept thinking that it looked like it was raining hard, but it didn't feel like it; I wasn't getting all that wet, or perhaps it just felt that way because my hair is so think that only the top layer was getting damp. In the bank, as I was filling out deposit and withdrawal slips, I tried to keep my wet hand from smudging the paper and my wet hair from dripping on it. On the way back from the bank, I realized that it was raining just as hard as it looked like it was; my hair and clothes were soaked through and my shirt had become a much darker shade of blue.

As I walked down Hale Street there were puddles and streams going every which way, and I was reminded of walking through the woods at Dan's cabin after days of rain, barefoot, seeing one stream become several, separate, come together again a ways downstream, in some places becoming stagnant puddles and in others rippling down new courses that they wouldn't have found without the overflow of water everywhere. Having to jump three streams to cross what would ordinarily be one, slipping in hidden puddles beneath the leaves, standing on smooth rocks in the middle feeling the water rush over my feet. It's a strange parallel my mind drew as I looked at barren Hale Street: cracked sidewalks, ugly old buildings, chain link fences. It's nothing like those woods. And yet the water played the same way, making a game of the uneven sidewalks, the breaks in the curb, sliding and swirling, puddling here and flowing there.

When I got back inside I was soaked to the skin.

Amanda Hope -- 10:10 PM (linkme)

Monday, May 27, 2002

I'm contemplating a redesign, by the way. If I can ever get the materials together to make it work. Hm...

Amanda Hope -- 4:29 PM (linkme)