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17 March, 7:44 am. Birds, some blue sky, heavy clouds over Whidbey.
It feels weird not to go outside right now. It really is a nice way to wake up, going for a walk, and the spaces are so inviting. Being here, I’m really loving walking, and wasn’t ready to stop last night. But it was getting darker, and I was expecting rain. A few errant drops did hit, and the clouds were quite dark grey. But right now the tide is high, so I’ll wait for a while before going to the beach. I didn’t go there at all yesterday, instead walking the bunker trails. Apparently I haven’t finished seeing them. There are more, but as I said, it was getting dark, and the light wasn’t making for good photos. I’d love to find a map of it all, but then again, maybe it’s just better to stumble across the hidden bunkers unaided by extra info.
The seagulls are out, and probably there are deer lurking. I see those every day, either on the lawns, or in someone’s yard. It rained last night, but not as hard as I expected. Nothing looks really wet. I hear that back home the wind came, and broke two trees – a cedar up near the neighbor's, and a hemlock – in half. Also, another tree fell between another neighbor’s two driveways during the day. The wind here wasn’t quite so bad; not in the least. That would have been quite something to experience.
Retreating in the woods is very different from doing so in an open space like Fort Worden, with a view of the ocean’s expanse, the little ferry going to and from Whidbey, occasional barges, and right now, a little tug hauling something many times its size. The light is soft, nothing remarkable. Except that madrona tree out in the middle of the lawn (by the 1912 brick building) seems lit from within, and the light o the grass is nice. Now there are crows – no, I’m mistaken. What I mistook for crows, and one robin on a white van that’s been parked there since I’ve been here, are really the end pieces of a roof rack. But in looking again, the one on the front driver’s side that looked like a robin with its orangey breast, is now black. Maybe for a few moments, that really was real. Must have been.
Oh, looking again, not even a minute later, the light has brightened.
I’m not sure what’s happened to the neighbors (living in the bottom opposite apt.) have gone. I think I’m once again on my own. (There goes the little ferry again – all lit up).
Yesterday, I found a spot during my walk, a little trail heading off the paved road I was on to an aerial gunner site. I didn’t find any evidence of that, but there was a little bench on the bluff overlooking the water. The light there was amazing, and so was the view. Everything was all the more dramatic because of the light and the rain clouds moving in, so I was taking photos of the sky, and that’s how I spotted the eagle. Two, actually. They flew overhead a while, then headed north, I think. It was a feeling of blessing seeing them. In one of my photos I caught the wingtip feathers against the sky.
I’m not having significant dreams here. I wake up a lot, which is to be expected being in a new place. And, I’m not hearing the loud music and talking during the night that Annette mentioned. In a way, I’m disappointed not to have a ghost experience. But, maybe I shouldn’t complain. Then I’d really not get any sleep. I may have lost my ghost-magnet appeal in these last few years.
Tide’s going out, it seems. And I’m getting hungry. Must be time to eat a granola bar, and head to the beach for a short walk.
Yep, I’m now convinced that really was a robin, posing as a roof-rack support on that white van. That red breast is gone.
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I never made it to the beach, heading instead back up to the bunkers. I think I’ve seen the majority of what’s viewable to the public. This took me from about 8:30 until 10:15, when I returned, ready to try writing again. I took more photos, and used up my first photo card and second set of batteries.
Writing has been more successful today. Mostly revisions; I found some free writes from 1 May 2009, and have worked with all of those. There is, to my amazement, some usable stuff in each piece. Nice when that happens, especially when new work doesn’t seem to be forthcoming yet.
Craving bread since the afternoon, I went to Aldrich’s and got a loaf of seed bread, and another salad for my dinner. This hit the spot perfectly, and I also got some more chocolate. My wine has been a glass of mineral water laced with cranberry juice.
Themes I’ve seen in the poems I’ve worked on today: Our (house) fire, and my grandmother. One of those falls into the category of work I imagined I might focus on. I find it good not to invest to heavily on a plan; rather let what comes do its work. Then, if a pattern does arise, and it seems good, I can go with it. So far, so good.
My daily trip to the Commons to check email and internet stuff was thrown off today by the Commons being closed to entry. So, I sat outside in the windy sun, squinting at my almost unreadable screen. I got the job done, albeit quickly. Probably just as well; I can spend too much time doing stuff like that if it’s available. Because it was such a challenging experience, I packed it all in, and returned to the apartment.
I’m getting used to the apartment, too, and am becoming more comfortable in the space as I learn how best to use it. The bed is just fine. And I think I’m completely alone now, which suits me fine, too. No noises to distract me, no voices I’m compelled to listen to, to pick up some shred of recognizable conversation. Now, I think I’ll read a little; then it’s off to bed.
Okay, it’s 10:44 pm, and I’m still up. I just worked on the Satellite poem, trying to make each line end on a direct anagram. I’m really off to bed now! Still, good to be writing.