This is a long weekend. It's also the first weekend that I haven't left town in over a month. The smoke is gone after the rain came on my birthday. I turned 38. I slept in a tent, I slept in a van, I slept in a cabin, I slept in my giant bed. Today I slept in. I feel like I'm on to something good.
Belle and me went for a hike with Rachel at the arboretum. I hadn't been there in a few weeks, and the fall sharpened the smell and dulled the colors. The leaves are all over, papering the ground, and the only berries left are some dried up salal. I didn't harvest any blackberries to bring home this year, but I ate woodsorrel on my birthday at a cabin on a lake up a logging road with my new sweet heart, which is funny because woodsorrel leaves are perfect hearts. I hadn't seen any since high school, and I've been looking for it ever since then. It was everywhere up there. I also got black cap raspberries in Port Angeles, which were new to me, so I feel like I did alright this summer either way. I still haven't taken a swim, though.
We walked with Rachel all the way to the tower at the arboretum and climbed to the top. I saw a MAGA carved in the railing. We laughed about how it actually stands for Men Are Getting Arrested. We spent a minute trying to identify a stately looking building way in the distance, but then Rachel figured out it was a La Quinta, and actually her in-laws will be staying there in October. Belle was mellow and happy. She's doing so great lately. We both are.
I learned a simple love song for the first time in a long time, and it's a beautiful song, but I couldn't help throwing in my broken little shitty casio. It was too pretty without it. I love salty love. I love this long weekend. Time has been racing by, breaking my neck, but now it feels like there are some resting places out of time, and I can get to them. I want to learn more love songs this year. I know I have time.