Snow or not, I had to build something during my stay here in Tahoe.
We walked along the lake this morning, and our shore is dressed in small boulders and hundreds of perfect skipping stones instead of sand. Even someone who’s never skipped a stone before can get a good bounce, and experts can practically make their stones walk on water.
On one of the larger boulders we found a small pyramid of stones – one of those ephemeral sculptures bound to be demolished by wind or tide or miscreant. The best thing to do, of course, was add our own sculptures alongside it. I managed to build this before we moved on, taking a photo every time I added a new story in case it fell. It was still standing when we left; I feel like Mitch would be proud.
Having built this little tower, thrown a few snowballs and climbed a tree, I think I’ve fulfilled my minimum requisites for the trip. Tomorrow and Monday morning are just a bonus.
I like you a lot
I’m staying in Lake Tahoe this weekend – just in time to catch the very end of winter. It’s been several years since I’ve seen snow, so it was wonderful to ride over the mountains and see silken floes of milky snow cover the slopes. I’ll be missing out on snowboarding this year, though, and our lakeside cabin hasn’t even enough snow to build an army of snow-goons.
Down by the water, between piles of rocks perfect for skipping, I found this last bolt of icy snow, a crowd of snowflakes still huddling for cold. The lake was quiet, rippling gently, but less than an hour waves were building, creeping up the rocky shore. It may be that Tahoe has already claimed this bolt; perhaps no more will replace it until next winter.
she’s like a samba
Calcium carbonate coats every rock on every route, so even if you don’t bring any you’re sure to find the white dust on your fingers after a climb. From this excess of chalk is born #chalktalk, perhaps a burgeoning social network contained entirely in the green mats of the gym. Now and then I’ll find drawings or thoughts scrawled there in chalk – doodles and in-jokes painted while climbers wait for their turns on the wall. The medium could easily develop its own memespace; there’s plenty of inspiration flowing from route names and the rich climber-specific vocabulary everyone picks up as they get experience.
My arms are weary in a loud sort of way tonight – a good way to end the day.
you could feel the sky
I was surprised by a faint rain when I left the lab just before nightfall. As I walked downtown umbrellaless, the atmosphere kept wavering, unsure if it wanted a rainy night or not. My mirrorless wasn’t around to capture the sullen look of the streets, but when I waited at the bus stop I did capture this tree’s dance with my tired little camera.
I often wish my pocket camera had a clearer lens, but I think there’s something of value in this myopic view.
music is math
The bars over our bathroom window might keep out burglars and saboteurs, but leaving the window open just a sliver still welcomes in plenty of other visitors. This little explorer crept so deliberately down the wall of our shower tonight, eyes stretched wide, moving with a remarkable air of purpose for one so small. Pearce escorted her out shortly after she was discovered; our home has nothing of interest for snailkind.
It still seems so remarkable that creatures like this exist on the same planet as us.
nothing like we’d ever dreamt
Pearce and I were both home tonight – the first time in a week, it seems – and Brittany, Paul and Laurel all made their way in as well. While Laurel and I wrestled with lines of code, everyone else dabbled in song.
It’s nice to have everyone together like this, but the fact that it’s such a rare occurrence says something about how busy we are. I keep thinking that I need to learn to use my time better, to cull the unnecessary things that eat up my hours, and I feel a little crushed that I haven’t figured that out yet.
Everything is lovely, of course, but I need to choose the things I can be ecstatic about.
you wanted to eat up my sadness
We wandered around town a bit today, picking up a comic and smoothies, and on our way back I found a trimmed bit of flower bush resting on the brickwork – one pink blossom and one white bud. When I picked it up to look closer, the gardener returned and clipped off two more flowers for us. It made for a nice little bouquet to carry back, still alive and green, with just a few petals starting to burn away with age.
This nook here was an odd geometric pocket in one of the buildings, so we stepped in for just a moment. The closed-in walls, painted grey and grey over old graffiti, seemed to frame Laurel and her flowers rather nicely.
What kind of flowers are these? I know only a few by name.