The Furious Spinner

It is raining. Has been raining for days. This is unusual weather for June. Yesterday, during a break in the rain, Mario and I went to Eagle Creek for a hike. We hadn't been there since they closed it during the winter due to rock slides. Last week, a hiker fell, slipped off the trail, and was badly injured. The trail was wet, water streaming and flowing from all around, creating waterfalls every few yards. This was definitely April weather. Wild flowers bloomed everywhere, the delicate flowers nestled amongst green foliage—white, blue, pale purple, scarlet blossoms accessories to the green which grew in the rocks and at the roots of the old growth, creating a fairy-like landscape. We went up and up, winding through the huge old Doug firs, stepping over and around the temporary waterfalls. I breathed it all in. Ahhhh wilderness!

We went to lunch at Thai Noon, then to an Italian movie, I'm Not Scared. A young boy discovers another boy is being held underground near an old farmhouse by unknown kidnappers. He doesn't tell anyone. He keeps going back and visiting the boy. Mario and I decided that if we had been 10 years old and found anything like a kidnapped child, we would have run straight to our parents. This child didn't do that. Of course, it turns out his parents were part of the kidnapping scheme, but still. We wondered if this was some kind of a cultural difference. What would you have done? I'm especially curious what my overseas readers would have done.

It started pouring down rain when we got out of the movie. Huge black clouds had settled over the city. One of them looked like a giant inner tube, only it appeared as though something was in the donut hole. I waited for a tornado to snake down from that black hole. Thunder rolled through the city. Lightning kept lighting up the near-night sky. It was raining so hard, we could hardly see the road. We drove to Calendula, a vegetarian restaurant on Hawthorne in an old Victorian house. We sat at a table in the very front of the house, at the window below the stained glass, looking out at the street and the stormy sky. Every once in a while lightning flashed nearby. We had been to Calendula before. The food is very good, although it's expensive for us. Ordinarily, I don't care for Victorian houses. They are either decorated with so many frills and so much cuteness that I want to gag, or else they are too dark on the inside. I can't stand dark houses. I can't even stay in motels with wood paneling. I have nightmares. (Yes, I'm like the princess in princess and the pea. It's a pain being so sensitive.) But I am drawn to this house. Light pours in from the many windows in the dining room. The wallpaper is a deep gray, with a raised paisley pattern, but it's not dark or dingy. The first time we ate here, I immediately came up with an idea for a ghost story.

Last night, rain splattered the windows, then the sun lit them up, making the drops look like tiny diamond slugs clinging to the glass. The house seemed perfectly suited for the storm, as if it were made for this weather. It did not shake or rattle. I felt cozy and protected, sitting in this house with my sweetie, holding his hand and watching the storm and the world outside, pedestrians hurrying down the sidewalk, the wind whipping through their coats and hair, pulling them in another direction. I felt like I was a turtle and this house was my shell. My ideal shell: complete with my husband and someone to cook and serve me delicious food!

On the way home, we turned up Led Zeppelin on KGON (during their 8:00 p.m. "Get the Led Out") and watched a huge black storm cloud. I was sure a twister would come down from it and teach us a thing or two about dance.

Unfortunately we had to leave the cloud behind. The dance would have to wait.
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All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.