Apparently, the rabid foxes have returned to my town. Also, there have been several mountain lion sightings in the neighborhood. Also, everything is in bloom and you can't turn around without bumping into someone with an allergic sneezing spasm. These things, among others (more birds atwitter, frantic wooly bears crossing every street, children with spring fever, farmer's market, sweet fresh strawberries) mark the nearing of summer in northern California.
Yesterday I ran 20 miles or so. I just headed out toward the beach, along cow pie alley and over the Hammond bridge. What I noticed was the foxy digitalis in bloom. They come in bright neon colors and they look out of place, as if they think this is Las Vegas or a Shaman cardiologist's office. So pretty. And useful too.
Today, I was running in the marsh. The other sign of spring/summer here is the sudden astounding growth of foliage along the paths that somehow gets beaten back by rain and sub 60 degree weather in the winter. Temperate climates are subtle, especially for those of us used to the screaming extremes of Wisconsin (for instance), where one month the candles are melting in the heat and 2 months later you lose all feeling in your toes waiting at the bus stop in what seems to be the arctic. The marsh today was full of birdsong and also this lovely sound of tall grasses rustling in the wind. I was uncharacteristically unplugged from my iPod and just sort of meditating with Mother Nature as my centering music. I passed a guy twice, sitting still and obviously meditating on a bench. Such still meditation both fascinates me and freaks me out.
I am creaky and sore more often than not, but have decided not to let that deter me. For inspiration I turn to my fast friends (Monica, Ellen), my fast and Zen-like child (Vera) and a magnificent drummer and athlete (Cheshire) who was recently hit on her bike by an idiot driver. I am inspired by my cousin (Linita), my athletic and brave brother and my husband who actually prefers the treadmill to Mother Nature, at least when it comes to running. Also my many patients. Also I enjoy ice cream and the occasional doctor's lounge donut, and without running, God only knows how I would haul my ass up the stairs at work.
Thank you, all of the above.
Beauty for me these days is when my children and husband are content, my body lets me run, work is fully staffed and my fingers can still find most notes on the piano while half asleep. The rhodies are blooming, the redwoods have those soft new light green buds at the tips of their already gargantuan limbs. I would like to think everything is going to be OK.
But, the foxglove are afire. The foxes are crazy. Who knows what might happen next?