LISTENING TO: Yo La Tengo - Fakebook
It's a Sunday, and it was supposed to rain all weekend but really I don't think there has been even a drop. We start up the trail around noon. It is sunny and breezy. Where the trail forks off into three directions, we go straight up over the ridge and pretty immediately see light coral colored huckleberries. They are sour. They are the first ones I've seen this year, but I don't see any more so I'm not sure if they are on their way out, or on their way in. The salmonberries are definitely on their way out. I see a few overripe sticky ones falling off the bush, but it's okay because Belle and I both got plenty out at Hovander last week. I also see small green Thimbleberries starting to take shape. Thimbleberries are the most special, because you have to eat them on the trail. They turn to mush in your hand. I knew that living in Port Townsend was too easy when there were a bunch growing right across the street from my house and all I had to do was walk over and pick them.
The rhododendron are still blooming. There are some good sticks for Belle to chase up the trail. I hear a lot of different birds singing and I see a robin actually chirping and so am able to confirm that in addition to being a kind of mundane bird, they also have a kind of mundane chirp, but I love them for it. I see a tiny, tiny bird on a twig that I am unable to identify but almost looks like a hummingbird.
It feels like we are in a dome. The sounds inside are closer and more resonant because the woods are all ears and full of quiet good listeners. The ground thumps the same way it sounds when I pat Belle on her side, like it's alive, because it is. I see some graffiti of Charleena Lyles' name on a rock. We are always in the world until we aren't anymore.