I spent some time at the locks. It was toward the end of the day and the sky was slowly getting darker.
Here are all the things I saw on that particular day at the locks.
The sun setting over the water and the train bridge, creating an orangey glow.
A flock of little water birds floating together. These little birds are coots. The group name for coots is cover.
A grassy hill with speckles of daisies.
Barnacle stairs inviting me to descend into the salty water.
Kelp creeping toward land.
A bridge for trains.
Ever persistent blackberry bush growing among cement.
A disagreement on the proper etiquette of camping.
Little flowers in bloom.
The lifted bridge.
Reflections in a strange buildings window.
Lights matching the moon.
Today there is to be a windstorm. We have been promised and threatened this windstorm for the past several days. We are anxious and excited and reluctant to decide how we feel. It was suppose to start this morning, then at 2 PM then at 3 PM. It is only breezy now, but the gusts are gathering strength.
A meteorologist (amateur or professional, I'm not sure) claimed it would be the storm of the decade. A storm to rival the Hanukkah Eve storm which happened before I moved here so I don't have that day in my mind to compare. One time while living here though, we had a windstorm that created waves on the normally placid Lake Washington. I was driving over the bridge and the waves swept over the railing and crashed around the roadway. Someone told me that during that windstorm they had to grab onto a pole as to not be blown away.
With all this in mind, I am imaging something pretty ferocious today. I'm imagining not just leaves, but whole, thick branches swirling through the air, slapping against the sides of buildings and collapsing with tinny thumps on top of parked cars. I am imaging hats flying off heads, scarves untwirling themselves from around necks and into the wild air, coats flapping back like capes, hair being blown into wild nests. I imagine umbrellas sucked inside out so their wire skeletons are completely exposed. I am imaging dazed birds pounding their winds as they fight to fly against the pressure of the oncoming wind. But I hope the birds and all the other animals find somewhere safe to huddle and wait out the wind. I saw a cat outside earlier and I wanted to tell it to go home! But it would have just looked at me that way cats do, eyes slanted, an expression of disinterest on it's fuzzy face.
A long time ago when I lived on the North Coast in California, we had a wild windstorm overnight. It was exciting to hear the wind pound against the window, to know outside the world was swept into a kind of frenzied chaos. The next day was calm, but all the trees that lined the freeway were toppled over. there roots exposed. It was sad. They had once been strong, thick trunked trees. They must have been trees for at least thirty years. But it all ended in one night, and they weren't trees anymore, they were wood slumped along the freeway.