windy weather

It's great how different activities make you notice particular facets of the weather. The winds today were about 20 to 30 mph, which feels so gentle in a car and still relatively calm on your porch, but on the bay today they were fierce! Salt spray everywhere, waves crashing into the top of the kayak. Sunglasses were fogged by the water and quickly crusting salt, yet eyes also seemed too frail for the deluge of saltwater that met them with every thud of the kayak into the next approaching trough. Squinting into the oncoming salt and drenching waves worked best. Exfoliation at its most thorough.

Our journey through Pleasant Bay felt not always pleasant or calm, least so when the boat captain slowed down to ask us if we were okay during a period of routine paddling (guess we looked more fatigued than we thought!), but the trip left such pleasant aftermath. The winds still gust outside, but inside my little cabin, they sound like a backdrop. I'm warm, comfortable, and content. And sleepy. While earlier I was stretched and pushed by the wind in the bay, I'm now soothed by it. A beautiful windy day and a breezy night to go with it (even the adjective changes once I'm no longer worried about being capsized!). A wonderful windy day. 

sunglasses

I've always wanted to get a pair of rose-colored sunglasses, just to see what the world really would look like through them. Would it really be better than polarized, just plain dark-colored sunglasses that make water look better than real life? How could rose-colored glasses top that?

signs at a rally

I saw some great signs at a rally yesterday in West Capital Park in Albany. Here's a small sampling:

 

Looks like the State Education Department spent the most time on their sign. 

parade residue

I woke up this morning and the streets were paved with glitter! If only every parade left its mark the day after like Pride does. Day-after Christmas cookies, scattered in boxes, after Christmas parades? Bunnies jumping around after the Easter parade? Revolutionary-era fife music playing on the streets the morning after the fourth of July? Beer all over the streets after St. Patty's Day? Oh wait, that one's real.

duck pride

All spring, I'd been wondering where the baby ducks were. I kept scouring the pond, looking for signs of females and their babies, but no luck.

About three weeks ago I finally gave up on the ducklings, figured maybe it was just too lean of a year. . . but then today! Two mother ducks swam in formation with nine adorable ducklings around the fountains of the pond.

Today was also the pride festival in Albany. Guess the ducks were finally ready to come out. . .

the muskrat waddle of shame

Saw a muskrat by the river trail yesterday. He was fine until I slowed down-- I think my staring made him uncomfortable. He waddled away in a way that made it seem he could stand to lose a few pounds, but I guess that awkwardness just comes with being a muskrat. All the substance of the beaver without the glory of the tail.. .

(on second glance, though, looks like a few muskrats have shed their humble beginnings)

just plane fun.

one kid to another while traveling: "why you always crying? you miss everything!"

man next to me, who was from montreal: "when my kids were little, we stopped in albany all the time. we ate at that place-- crossgates? yeah, the mall! oh yeah, albany's a great place." 

Trains, Planes, and Zoning Out

I think part of what's freeing about travel is the lack of to-dos. Sure, there are the preparatory tasks of booking the trip, ensuring that your boarding passes are printed and the luggage properly stowed, but the time of travel itself-- waiting for the plane or train, then sitting on it-- has already been budgeted for travel. Simply sitting in your seat marks an accomplishment-- check! You're traveling!

I feel most fulfilled during travel when I set my mind to what the trip has freed me to pursue: Nothing. A blank stare, soaking in new surroundings, letting my mind lapse into its own subconscious. . . In non-travel times, I too often only welcome this passive meditation on life during long runs or bike rides. Travel is their equivalent, the calm exception to my constantly swirling thoughts.

Yet, it's in these times of stillness that my mind moves the most, leapfrogging problems and exposing the fluidity of obstacles I'd always assumed solid. Travel's waiting periods are for the impatient a time of forced meditation. Makes you wonder, what's so bad about waiting after all?