Every afternoon last week I looked up around 4PM to see what was going on. Clouds streaked across the sky racing toward an invisible weather front. And although each day started off calm and still, by late afternoon the strangest wind had hunkered down on Palo Alto. It blew in incredible gusts tinged with the premonition of fog. Trees bowed and their leaves flapped against each other with such frothy vigor that it sounded like we were in the middle of a hard rain. Dust swirled, lawn chairs tipped over, tennis balls blew sideways across the court. And still, the California sun continued to cut it’s harsh blinding light across the end of the day.
Like it always does, the weather touched everything--there was such motion and commotion that it was hard to keep track. Camping trip, dance performance, track meet, possibly a new school for Eloise, Graham’s work, school volunteering, a send off for my long time buddy, who had the same stuffy as me a thousand years ago, and who will drive back east for good at the end of the month.
This past week was a whirlwind in an actual whirlwind. And I chalk up the galloping feel of my last post, at least in part, to what it felt like to be riding that energy last week.
This week the wind has died down, and it is a relief.
It feels like time to sit down for a cup of tea, want to join me?