We’re on the Oregon coast in Yachats in the rain. Left the cats with a house sitter and bugged out. Drove from lightly falling snow through multiple rain showers to pouring rain on the coach. But the air is fresh and the ocean offers spiritual medicines you just can’t find anywhere else but the ocean.
Today is April 20, 2023, Thursday. Yes, it’s 4/20, if you’re into that. We just ate at a coast favorite, The Green Salmon, enjoying vegan egg and sausage sandwiches. Yep, the eggs were Just Eggs and the sausage was plant-based. Fantastic, as was the vegan glazed maple croissant we split. Seriously, you wouldn’t know it’s vegan if I’d not told you.
Except for being at the coast, the weather is the same. High 51 F, rain. But it’s the coast. We’re gonna go see Thor’s Well.
After doing tarot cards at breakfast, The Neurons planted “Changes” by D. Bowie (1972) in the morning mental music stream, supplanting “Hey, Baby”.
Off to walk the coast. Stay pos. Seize the Thursday, yeahhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJSv6JXKS_I? Here’s the music. I’m continuing with some delicious coffee. Cheers
“I love the smell of snow in the spring. It reminds me of winter.”
Yes, snow continues in Ashlandia’s April on Wednesday, Apil 19, 2023. Just another inch. Sort of fun, interesting, and unsettling for the cats, who firmly believe winter was supposedly over and sunshine was expected to be ruling. They go and seek it each day in their own way. Papi the young ginger fellow dashes out, finds the sun disappointing and dashes back in. Not trusting just one result, he duplicates his efforts at least three or four times to validate his findings.
Tucker, the black and white low-haired dude with the thick layers and big paws, strolls out, takes the sun he finds, tests the air with his nose and then grooms in the sun until a nap takes over.
Here in Ashlandia, where the coffee is made of ground roasted beans and boiling water, sunshine arrived without an entourage at 6:23 AM and will abandon our valley before eight PM strikes. If it doesn’t get out in time, the sun turns into a car shaped like a pumpkin and stays in Ashlandia giving floof rides. Weather scribes tell us — drum roll — it’s 30 F now, will reach about 50 F, and we can expect rain. Not much change from the last few days.
Today’s theme music is by Bob Marley and comes via The Neurons to the morning mental music stream from a streaming TV experience called Ted Lasso. “Three Little Birds” was released in 1980. I felt like a relaxing and hopeful song was essential for what could be a hump day for so many people.
Stay pos. Take a coffee break now and then. Think I’ll take one now. Here’s the music. Cheers
Sunshine beats down on snow-plated Ashlandia.Concerns about how this late snow and cold weather affects the growing season circulate among growers and friends. Everyone is reminded, this is just one corner of the growing season puzzle. Can’t worry about it now. Do as needed and press on.
It’s Tuesday, April 18, 2023. Sunrise was at 6:23 AM. 29 F last night, unseasonable for us. The snow is light and already burns off where the sun touched down earlier. Weather functionaries tell us it’ll rain today and the high will be about 50 F. So spring will show up for a bit. Sunset comes a few minutes before 8 PM.
Alexa told us yesterday that snow was going to happen during the night. We were surprised that she was right.
In other news, Nicolas Cage regrets eating cockroaches. Cats ask with puzzlement, “Why? They’re crunchy.”
Trips are being planned. Knowing this, the cats have subverted The Neurons and have them playing “Everytime You Go Away”. I had the Paul Young verson in my head but found this video from Farm Aid 1985 with John Hall singing it, backed by Billy Joel, Bonnie Raitt, and GE Smith. Has sentimental value for me, as I remember watching some of this concert on the telly.
Stay pos as you can. Coffee is being served and I shall partake. It’s my one weakness, along with fifty million other things. Here’s the music. Cheers
Today’s weather – 30 F, clear skies, rain drying on the ground, clouds circling the valley on the horizons — feels like mid-March. This is Mooday, Apil 17, 2023.
The sun is ‘climbing’ into the sky. Isn’t that a fascinating perception, that the sun is rising into the sky as a matter of the planet’s spin, tilt, and flight around the sun? Went out to see meteors last night but, rain. Clouds. No go.
My house weather system says it’s 37 F out there. Papi galloped in after being in for twenty minutes, wet paws sending him sliding and spinning. He’s no Aryton Senna. Weather spies warn Ashandia to expect more rain today, just showers. Sunrise was 0627 and sunset will be at 1954. Highs will crowd the mid-fifties by teatime and then drop as rain showers take over.
News today continues to focus mainly on the SCOTUS and the abortion pill, and the military ‘leak’ of classified info. Many decry this leak and suggest, shake things up. Change how classified is handled. Based on how many leaks? We had several more mass shootings over the weekend. Thoughts and prayers are being offered for actual loss of life by the pro-life party behind the abortion issues. Surely thoughts and prayers can work for the classified leak.
Weather inspired The Neurons today, coming up with “The Sound of Winter” by Bush (2011 – looked it up) in the morning mental music stream. The line is, “Hold on to yourself, it’s like the sound of winter,” which makes The Neurons ask, “What?”
Stay pos. Enjoy the sunshine as it comes until it becomes too much. So we, my beer friends and I, mused as we watched a snow squall flashed through followed by sunshine and then a rain shower. “Wait,” we told each other. “Probably by next month, it’ll be hot as hell and we’ll be wishing for rain.” Yeah, ‘cuz we’re like that.
Hearing the pursuit, we ran hard. “In here,” Pretzel shouted on my left. I twisted, planted my foot and made the cut, following him into a small path.
We crowded in panting like the sprinters we’d been. “What is this?” Maylie asked.
“I think it’s a time machine,” C-Jean said.
Don’t know about the rest but I did a mental, oh shit. “Don’t touch anything. We got to get out of here.”
“Oops,” Pharslei said.
The machine vibrated for two seconds. Ping, it said, like we were a done nuked meal.
“Where are we?” Maylie asked.
“Not where,” Pretzel said. “When. Time machine, itz. When are we?”
Sunday, April 23, 2016, it said. “Shit,” someone said.
The numbers blinked. April 20, 1623. Still Sunday. “I’m going to go see,” Pretzel announced.
“No,” I said, “Hold up.” That was the last I saw of him, though, going out that door.
Last I saw of any of them. Machine now said, April 16, 2023.
I left the booth. It vanished behind me. Tepid sunshine washed my face. Mostly I saw cloud layering like stacked grays. Still seemed like Ashlandia’s green deep valley, at least.
The Neurons have filled the morning mental music stream with “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”. Went with the Kinks’ original song from ’65. Fit with my state of mind. Shopping this morning, it seemed like such a dirge. Everyone shopper I eyed semed to be thinking, “I wish I was anywhere else.” Shopping has never been a leisure pursuit for me but it kicked my thinking down a memory path which lodged up against the question, where have all the good times gone? Follow up was, what constituted a good time?
Stay pos. I know, sometimes it’s touch. Feels like the world is on your shoulders, and it’s putting on more weight every second. Coffee helps me. Coffee; it’s what’s for breakfast.
The pull out of a late winter and snowy sub-seasons of winting and sprinter continues in Ashlandia, where the coffee houses rule. It’s Satitda, a reflection of how I sometimes hear Saturday spoken, April 15, 2023. Would’ve been payday for me in another era, a chance to spend some rubles on a treat, tank up the car, buy grocs, pay more bills. We always paid the bills, watched our expenses, and saved.
Pretty fine day out there, as it was yesterday. Tucker is out nesting in sunshine between bushes, as he did yesterday. Papi selected to come in, deciding grooming on the bed is preferable to the noisy outside where trees are being trimmed or removed at a neighbor’s place. Sunshine has won the morning. It’s a blue-sky 42 F but the weather managers say it’ll be 66 before the daylight segment of our day is drawn down. Sunrise was 6:30 AM and the sun ‘set’ will be at 7:52 PM. No rain for us today. No snow, either.
I have an old blues song circulating my morning mental music stream. It’s all about options and how to get out of a situation. “One Way Out” was recorded by some classic bluesmen but I didn’t hear of their versions until later. Nope, I know the Allman Brothers’ live offering from the early seventies. Part of this way out convo was about talking over some Am I The Asshole entries on Reddit and what people should do. Another take on one way out was while catering to the cats: “This is it. I’m not going to go open another door. There’s one way out right now, and this is it.” The little critters accepted and The Neurons tugged “One Way Out” from memory and here we are.
Stay pos. Enjoy your day as best as you can. I’m going to try to get some things done. More editing, of course, but also some cleaning duties and yard work. I shall begin my list by inhaling a fragrant cuppa coffee. Here’s the tune.
April 14, 2023 emerged, handsome in a classic spring style, blue skies, soft air, an icy flair in his demeanor. “I shall call myself Rideday,” he said. “Cuz I will go on a ride. I will ride until the day’s end. I will let it ride.” So Rideday it is.
The mark was marked 6:29 this morning when the sun bathed Ashlandia with its first rushes. Earth plans to move us from the sun at 7:52 this evening. Though it’s 38 F now, the weather counters say we’ll see 68 F before Earth does its thing. No precipitation is planned although clouds plan a surprise appearance.
The latest intel leak disturbs me. Worked with classified materials in almost of all my twenty-plus year military career. War plans, comm crypto, launch codes, and intel from all manner of source. Never talked to people outside those with a need to know and clearance. Never photographed any or it or took it home. Didn’t even freaking consider it. But some idiot decides I’m going to take some home and photograph it and share it with my online friends. WTF, over?
The thing about our system, while we have checks and balances, it mostly depends on people knowing, understanding, and enforcing the rules. Then it depends upon their integrity and ethics. We’ve seen this approach several times this year. First, by a former POTUS who doesn’t want to give it up, who twists all the guidance to make it seem like he’s done nothing wrong. Then, by a POTUS who, in previous capacities, left the classified elsewhere and forget it. Now we have someone who wanted to impress friends.
I can understand some of the first — it’s his personality — and the second, though both piss me off. But the third? I’ve heard of people leaking classified for ideological and financial reasons but this is new one is an ugly low. Been a bad few years for classified. I will tell you this: much of the classified I saw during my years was overclassified. Much of it was pretty damn boring. Like, what the Apollo astronauts were eating for breakfast, which was almost verbatim given on the news before I saw the docs that day. Don’t worry, it’s been declassified.
The weather view outside the window stirred The Neurons. They said, “I got a song for this.” No shit, I answered. “Surprise me.”
They did.
After rummaging through the brain, they came up with one from 1969. By a group called Vanity Fare, the song is “Early in the Morning”. I laughed when they plugged it into the morning mental music stream. Don’t think I heard it in decades. Not the sort of sound which generally attracted me, it was one of those ubiquitous AM staples back in that era. I think more people are familiar with Vanity Fare’s other song, “Hitchin’ A Ride”.
Well, be a pos peep today and every day. Know it’s tough sometimes. I feel it, too. I don’t just coffee up and power on, but indulge in some self-pity and self-examination, dribble a few sighs, and then coffee up and move on. Or try. Sometimes, moving on is an event.
Thursday’s raised itself out of the Earth and declared, “I am April 13, 2023.” A sun sprinting over the horizon concurred and cast a wide net of shine and warmth over the land.
That was at 6:34 AM. It was 30 degrees F at the time. Faint, indifferent white clouds said, “Yo.” Rain and snow didn’t fail. The spring and winter yo-yo continues.
Sunset in Ashlandia, where the beer is excellent and the children are above average, will be at 7:50 PM. The weather messengers spread word, high will be at 55 F, nice, but a little disappointing. Sunday’s high of 73, with spring buoyancy, spoiled us. There is sunshine, though, so the cats are out there sopping it up.
We toasted friends with beer last night and chatted about the weather. Snow fell outside. It cleared. Then it rained but the sun shined still, converting each raindrop into a falling diamond. What is with the weather this year echoed from person to person.
Politic watching again this morning. Eyeing the Trump trials and tribulations, wondering, what will come? Reading of the GOP’s legislative efforts to protect Trump and the Manhatten DA’s lawsuit against Rep. Jim Jordan. Following the spillage over Justice Thomas and his relationship with a wealthy sponsor, and the emails between his wife and others. Thinking about Connor Sturgeon’s murders and his mother’s frantic 911 call that morning.
Wonder and thought, speculations and reflections.
Then there is the Pythia’s Oasis, fifty miles off the coast of Newport, Oregon.
Oddly quiet on the dream front last night. The Neurons ply me with Cheap Trick and “Dream Police”. That’s been used, I scoff. And it’s so obvious. What else you got?
The Neurons responded with “One of these Days” by Pink Floyd from 1971. Basically an instrumental. Just one line of words: “One of these days I’m going to cut you into little pieces.” Nick Mason delivers it.
Stay positive, endure, and overcome. Here’s the music. I’m going to go overcome a cuppa joe. Cheers
Blazing question in my head to research. Why, after being complimented about something well done, do people pretend to buff their nails? Know what I’m talking about? Figure it has to do with work and not having dirty nails or maybe having the time to do your nails, or maybe implying that your nails are in good shape and not broken because the work was easy. All things I’m inferring from context. Really curious about the gesture and its history.
Meanwhile, we watched the snow failing this Wednesday, April 12, 2023 morning. 6:30 AM it was. Falling, sticking, accumulating. All gone an hour later. Right now, it’s all blue sky and disheveled gray and white clouds. And it’s snowing again.
It’s now 37 F. Word around the weather stand is the high will be 44, 47, or 51 F. Depends on which service you ask. Sunrise came at 6:35 and the sun turn will end at 7:49 AM.
Read yesterday that California endured a stunning 32 atmospheric rivers this year. Ashlandia, in southern Oregon, shared in some of that largess.
Note of interest: I just learned this morning that the full name for Papi, my ginger floofmate, is Papi von Painintheass. Who knew?
Watched the last of “Sprung” last night on Freevee. A Greg Garcia production, I knew it would have quirky characters and surprising twists. Helped with a strong cast led by Martha Plimpton and Garret Dillahunt, I wasn’t disappointed. The ending to this short pandemic-inspired series was sweet and funny. The music to the closing credits was “Better Things” by the Kinks, 1981. I hadn’t heard the song in a long time, so The Neurons regaled me with it in the morning mental music stream, and I share it with you as today’s theme music. It’s a jaunty song with an ‘old-fashioned’ rock and roll sensibility. Hope you enjoy it.
Stay pos. Like the bumper sticker said, dream big. Or, have coffee. Relax. Here’s the music. Cheers
Tuesday’s Ashlandia by the numbers. 041123, 41/55 F, 6:34/7:48. Rain showers took the night. More rain visitations are anticipated for today.
It’s smelling and feeling like spring outside. Temperatures pushed up to a glorious 74 degrees F. Foamy white clouds ring the blue bowl over Ashlandia. Snow still stands on patches of the surrounding mountains but a green world and blue sky dominate.
I complained to friends about my weather forecast irritation. One responded with a story out of The Atlantic about how/why apps fail to provide satisfying and consistently accurate forecasts. Embedded in the tale was a site called forecastadvisor.com. This site tells what apps and sources are most and least accurate in their forecasts by percentage of days. Good data to gobble.
John Mellencamp was selected by The Neurons for residency in today’s morning mental music stream. Song is “The Real Life”. 1987. Went to a concert for that album, Lonesome Jubilee. Germany. Song came up from the mental vaults due to reflections on what is meant by living a real life? Seems like a definite spectrum to that answer, which changes by age, experiences, and circumstances. I feel like I’ve found my real life spending time in isolation, writing, editing, posting, corresponding. Others would disagree, chiding me for ‘not doing anything, not going anywhere, not being social’. I can debate with them whether that is ‘the real life’. Farmers might tell you the real life is all about growing things. Parents might say it’s about raising children who become adults and raise more children who become adults ad infinitum. I’ve heard others state that living the real life means helping others.
Here’s the song. Stay pos and live the real life, whatever you decide that is for you for now. My real life definitely involves coffee so I’m off to the kitchen. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 