On Saturday night, as B and I were eating dinner in Belltown al fresco - a highly anticipated seasonal treat in Seattle, we noticed the shift. The changing winds. The chill. What was a nearly balmy evening quickly turned frigid. I had to borrow his jacket and walk closer to him on the way home.
It's not every day you witness that moment when the atmosphere shifts. I remember once feeling it at a Summer the concerts on the pier. Everyone's basking in the sun and then, just like that, they fall into a hush as layers are unshed.
It reminded me of being in Italy for the jubilee at midnight mass. One raindrop and suddenly thousands and thousands of nuns and pilgrims opened their umbrellas.
Like a flock of birds startled into flight - wings spread in unison.
I digress.
Sunday morning we woke to dripping, dropping, droopy sky. A blanket of gray. The urban landscape swelling with oil and pollen - draining our first hint of summer into the sewers. Tires skidding. Watch your step.
I walked to go see B perform at the U District Street Fair. My music accompanying me. I was dressed for festivals with sandals and my hip pocket belt. No one else seemed to venture out but those training for big races. Sporting their high tech running clothes.
Those who venture out into the rain are richly rewarded. The city smelled like the forrest. The rain muffled most sounds, and even the sound of tires spinning in the rain provided peaceful white noise.
Damp clothing and numb toes lingered. We curled up under blankets, popping clothes in the dryer and cuddling to warm up again. And then, the magic of putting on my wool comfy pants - fresh out the dryer. Ah.... life's little pleasures.
