…about the music

Changing chakras.

Above is one in a series of spectacular views as I floated back to Friday Harbor on the ferry on Sunday afternoon. The snow had only just stopped and the sunlight pushed against blue skies. If you don’t like the weather, just wait ten minutes. That’s our motto.

My beloved snow has melted.

White has been replaced by the vibrant green it temporarily shrouded. Very pretty. And almost warm. The winds have picked up this evening and a moment ago it was just invigorating, not cold, being outside wrestling with a too-large pile of recycling that awaits a trip to the “transfer station” north of town. Others call such destinations “the dump,” but on an island, everything gets shipped over to the mainland. What those mainlanders do with our rinsed, flattened and squished items is anyone’s guess, but I keep high, imaginary hopes for the endless re-uses of all those cardboard boxes and happily emptied wine bottles.

Transferring one existence, to another: moving boxes morph from tree to container, and travel from there to here; grapes morph from fruit to beverage, and travel from bottle to belly. Snow melts, and I ferry back and forth at will. Life, in all its forms, is in constant transit.