Someone unwittingly sent me balloons. Or perhaps they knew that I’m celebrating: after many months of travel– all very wonderful– this coming week is my final business trip of the season. Very soon I will be home, sweet and salty home, for three solid months.
Oh no, I’m not complaining about the insanely fortunate life that I have created which regularly places me virtually via Skype, and physically via claustrophobic metal tubes hurtling through the air, in front of countless fellow artists and arts lovers (and others who have no idea why I’m talking so passionately, yet politely tolerate me nonetheless). But after two and sometimes three body-vaulting trips each month since last autumn, boy, do I appreciate the joy of staying in one place to compose, run my business, and commune with the humans and animals I adore who also call this rock, “home”:
Like this juvenile Bald Eagle,
headed back to the mound where his brother (and, um, the entrails of some unfortunate but tasty creature) awaits.
Like this raccoon,
who knows that home is where you put your paw prints. And where the birds are, happily, really messy.
Like the Orca, returning each May to the San Juans,
checking to see how her summer digs fared over the winter.
Like this giant male Tenegaria house spider on the prowl for some hot love,
happy to be scooped up and released back to a waiting mate. Well, he hopes.
Like the foxes,
who know that someone’s bound to open the door if they knock.
Like Bella, excited to see her house at the bottom of the road,
so she can settle in and do what she does best: procrastinate on her work (you don’t think *I* write all this music, do you?).
And like me,
so damn happy to be home all summer long, as I admire the sun and the moon and the sea and the stars alongside my flippered, feathered, finned,
and multi-legged companions.
I am celebrating being home! Thanks, whoever you are up the coast, for those pretty balloons.