I was alone walking. Weather and the environment were pleasant and unthreatening. Trees, green grass, clear blue sky.
I’d been going along an enormous white cement culvert. Veering away from it, I found eight objects suspended in a line in the air about four feet above the ground. About the size of a human head, they were mostly pink, green, light blue, purple, yellow, gold, red, etc. They seemed either metal or foil and reminded me of wrapped chocolate Easter eggs.
With little thought, I plucked the purple one from the line’s middle. Amazingly light, I was absolutely sure it was a dragon egg. All these things floating in the air were dragon eggs. Part of my mind saw the dragons bursting from their eggs with scales of that color covering them.
Thinking I would juggle the eggs, I pulled another one and tossed the purple and then red one into the air, then grabbed a yellow one and tossed it up. When I did that, all the eggs went into the air and began spinning in a circle around me. They all followed the same orbit. Their path created a multi-hued ring. As I ooh’d and awe’d over that, a bright light flashed in the circle’s center. Within a second, the center was a starry rift. An opening, a portal, I thought.
Thursday landed on us. It was a soft landing for me. My brooding, dark mood vanished yesterday afternoon.
It’s already 53 F outside. Winds from the southwest have dropped to 16 MPH and they tell us we’ll see 63 F. For reasons such as mountains and valleys, and high and low pressure systems, the atmospheric river swamping California and gifting us almost a full month’s rain quota is going around us now.
Sunrise wasn’t much to crow about. The earlier light was appreciated, coming in at 7:38 this morning, but it was short on the shine penetrating the cloud base. I’m optimistic some shine will clear the clouds before the sun takes it light elsewhere at 5:01 PM.
This is Thursday, January 12, 2023.
Today’s theme music will be a Jeff Beck song. Jeff Beck passed this week, 78 years old. While some people went for singers, looks, or drummers, I was a lead guitarist fan when I was a young teenager. Five me fast fingers and wailing bent notes. Beck was an early name I followed. The man knew his way with a guitar. I haven’t listened to him much in recent years but I have multiple Beck favorites. One that The Neurons pulled into the morning mental music stream was Beck and the Rolling Stones doing “Going Down” in 2012. That song has been covered by a range of guitar artists and bands and is very familiar to me. It’s been part of my mental walking music for yonks. It is good for keeping the feet moving, especially after a long and exhausting climb up, where you finally crest and begin the downslope. Yes, singing, “Going down. Down, down, down, down, down,” in your head as that happens satisfies me. So does this Stone & Beck collaboration.
Stay positive and test negative. The coffee has been drunk. Let the music begin. Cheers
Dawn broke, and now we could see why it was so dark. Last night’s sky was clear. Enriched by unblemished moonshine, spectacular starry mountain vistas were on offer.
Today, clouds have gone come down and fog hugs the ground. Grey is the color of the sky, and sunlight evades our searching eyes.
It’s Tuesday, December 6, 2022. Hear the tick tick of the digital clocks emulating the grandfather clock’s countdown? That’s the sound of the year leaving. Or maybe it’s the sound of the next year hurrying to us. The sun showed up on our spinning planet’s piece called southern Oregon at 7:25 this morning and will toss goodbye over its sunny shoulders at 4:39 PM. It’s 0 C but we’re hopeful of reaching 44 F today. Rain? No, they say. They’re telling us that despite the overcast sky and fog I’m seeing, it’s actually mostly sunny in Ashland. Most be another part of town.
What I notice of my morning rituals is that the summer sun comes in through the large east-facing living room window. By this time of the year, the sun shyly looks in through the southern window around the corner from the living room window and twenty-three feet further up the side of the house. They have come to be known as the summer window and winter window for me.
I awoke with a Led Zeppelin favorite in mind. Coming out in 1971, when I became fifteen years old, Led Zepp’s fourth album had a song on it called “When the Levee Breaks”. Now, I enjoyed that entire album but that song was the one which usually haunted me later. Later reading revealed that it was an old country song, which added a layer of thinking that stimulated greater introspection. Its worrying lyrics and downcast beat seemed firmly rooted in someone’s existence.
Later, I found its beat and tone conducive to walking and thinking. I was then and have always been a person who enjoys walking distances. I’m one to take the long way home when I’m on my feet, climbing up hills to gain a broader perspective. So it was that I was out yesterday, climbing the hills and thinking about my writing in progress when The Neurons rummaged through my youthful memories and began playing it. It stayed in my morning mental music stream today.
When I went off looking for a version to play today, I stumbled upon this version by the Playing for Change project. Incorporating a huge variety of sounds and talented individuals, it’s even more powerful and haunting than the version Zepp gave us. John Paul Jones of Zepp is included among the musicians. Derek Trucks is one of the folks on slide guitar. I hope you listen to the song and that it stirs you as it does me.
Off for coffee. Stay pos and test negative. Here’s the video. Cheers
The city-state-county were bringing Ashland street corners up to standards so they would comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act. The Federal government had provided funding for the work. Thirty corners had been identified and would be repaired in phases, starting on the southern end of town. Somehow, though, despite the impressive planning of phases, the project ended up with sidewalks being detoured in parallel on opposite sides of the highway. Each side told pedestrians, “Use Other Side”.
His mother was doing great with her walker. That was good. The motorcycle noises she made — pretending that she was shifting, tires squealing, engine revving — were a little unnerving. But if it helped, he accepted it.
It just seemed a little strange. Then again, that was Mom.
Lotsa wet out from ocean fog. Drips from everything and sprawls over cars and houses. Thursday morning on the coast. It’s started out much like Wednesday morning on the coast. I’m beginning to have suspicions about Friday morning on the coast, although rain is in the Friday forecast.
For now, it’s quiet and chill, 62 F, sunshine smothered in fog. The sun has been ‘up’ since 6:22 AM but it’s a dim bulb in the eastern fog swirl. A high of 68 F will be probed. We’ll going out on a short boat trip to explore the local marine life and history’s highlights. Should be fun. Sunset will be about 8:19 this evening.
Should note that it’s August 18, 2022, for the record. The record is important, isn’t it? ‘Tis why we’re always tracking and chasing these things. “For the record, what day was it?” “I believe it was August 18, 2022, yer honor.”
The line “walking in the sand” is walking through my morning mental music stream. Yes, thank you, neurons. Not very original of you but I have walked a few miles in the sand in the last few days. Nye Beach has a beautiful flat beach, not very busy on the sand, with gorgeous ocean views, well worth walking as the waves roll in do their splashing, and hurry back out as the gulls meditate and wonder.
Back to the music. I have the Shangri-Las version of “Remember (Walking in the Sand)” dueling the Aerosmith’s rendition, which is an interesting mental flavor to have before coffee. 1964 was the year of the Shangri-Las’s version while Tyler and the boys had a hit in 1979. One is pop and more melodic and the other is rock. I’ll let you guess which.
Here’s Amy Winehouse with the song. Yeah, I thought I’d throw a curve in. Stay positive and test negative, right? Deep breath because we’re still going through this. Meanwhile, I gotta find some coffee. Then I’m gonna go walkin’ in the sand. Hope I remember. Enjoy your day.
March has toddled in on unsteady steps. Yes, it’s Tuesday, March 1, 2022 already. Weirdly, I keep wanting to write 2023. Maybe it’s a subconscious desire to just leap this year.
Glorious sunshine spangled the clouds, trees, and mountains in the early going. Temperature was already up to 51 F — 55 now — and we’re probably going to reach 67 F. Went up the road to Medford yesterday for shopping and saw 72 F, according to the car. Didn’t feel like it, though. Felt more like 68.2.
Clouds have massed, a demonstration against too much sunshine, a vow to deliver rain somehow, somewhere, on someone. Sunrise kicked in at 6:46 AM. We’ll ride the rays until 6:01 PM, when they take their leave and wave good-bye.
War and politics rule the news. Coronavirus and pandemic, anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers supplanted by real matters of freedom as Russia plays like the USSR to use tank diplomacy to achieve its goals.
I was out walking in Ashland’s downtown area on Main Street yesterday, visiting the library, picking up more to read which they’d put on hold for me. Was wonderful to have a light, cool breeze flirting with me as sunshine warmed my bod. The neurons summoned Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band singing “Mainstreet” from 1977 as I walked. But when the turns carried me to Sixth Street, the neurons pivoted to the Wallflowers and “Sixth Avenue Heartache” (1996). The latter was the last song standing in this morning’s mental music stream, so here we are.
Stay positive (yes, I know, it’s asking a lot with all the vectors of buffeting), test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the song. I’m pursuing my destiny with a cup of coffee. Cheers
Boom, Friday. Feels like just yesterday was Thursday.
Today is February 18, 2022. Sunrise moved forward a few minutes more to 7:03 AM and sunset slipped back to 5:47 PM. Temperatures sometimes feel like spring and fall. We rarely feel like winter this year. Today we’ll hit the sixties F again, though it is clear and chilly this morning. Hovering now at 53, they say it feels like 41. I agree, although, when you’re in that sun, its impact is superfine. It’s a blinding sun. No clouds in its way today.
Out walking yesterday, my mind channeled “Kansas City”, a song that I learned as a child. Its beat always worked for a good walking song, and I’ve long used it for that purpose, along with “The Wanderer” by Dion, and “I’m Walking” by Fats Domino. The list has always grown, with later additions being “I Gotta Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas, “I Will Walk 500 Miles” by The Proclaimers, and “Feel It Still” by Portugal. The Man. Although I’m familiar with several versions of “Kansas City”, I went with this one just because of the number of rockers on stage. (Funny, but they’re mostly Brits playing this American song.) Hope you enjoy it. It’s not the version generally heard in my head; I’ve never found that cover and don’t know who does it. I will continue my search, though.
Staypositive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters when you can. Locally, we’re moving toward moving mask restrictions. Cases are way down; our zip codes shows 82 percent of us are vaccinated, and deaths are declining. It’ll be a cross-your-fingers, hold-your-breath period, though. Other variants remain out there, and a new one could always develop.
Now, going to the kitchen, to the kitchen here I come, got some hot fresh coffee there, and I’m gonna get me some. Cheers
Tattered clouds hang over us, letting us glimpse blue sky and sunshine through the rips and tears. Today is Wednesday, I remind myself after a moment, the mid-week for anyone concerned, February 16, 2022. Happy birthday to someone, somewhere. And happy anniversary to someone out there. Congratulations to your new job or promotion, to someone else — well done! For those of you mourning a loss, I feel you, and words loss traction, going nowhere, as I try to express my condolences.
The sun came around the mountains at 7:06 AM and will turn away at 5:45 PM. Feels chilly today, endured and welcomed, because it’s closer to normal and averages. It’s 41 F now — feels like 35 — close to the forecasted high of 47 F. The clouds are fragmenting into large white ships on a calm blue sea.
Today’s music arrived in mental music stream during a walk yesterday afternoon.It was about 4:30 PM. I was thinking, it’s chilly. No sunshine glowed where I walked on the valley’s southern side. Clouds and sun conspired to create a narrow golden band on the valley’s opposite side. I thought about how nice it would be to be over in that sunshine. From there, the neurons said, “Out in the sunshine. The sun is mine.” With that, Soundgarden was playing “Burden in My Hand” from 1996. I share it with you. See if it jogs your memory, where you can say, “Oh, yeah, I remember being with so-and-so and this song played.” Or something like that. That’s always music’s magic for me. With this song, I remember being with John in a club, drinking a beer and singing the song with him, and smiling. He was getting ready to retire, and it was a sweet night. His girlfriend was the DJ.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters when you can. Here is the song. Time to refill the coffee cup. Cheers
Blades of sunshine broke over the mountain a while before the sun broke cover at 7:07 AM. We had rain last night — hurray! Not heavy stuff in our area. With the temperature sitting at 37 F, I checked the surrounding mountains for snow. They said we’d get three to six inches about 5000 feet of elevation. And there it was, a creamy white layer topping the northern mountain ridge. Not much but nice to have it, as it’s been too dry this year. Fingers crossed that more will arrive, especially after reading an article that posits the idea that the U.S. West is in a megadrought. Joy.
Feathered clouds streak the sky with cotton candy pink and blue. We expect a high of 47 today, and no more rain around us, alas. Sunset is expected at 5:43 PM on this Tuesday, February 15, 2022. Note to self: February is over half gone.
Today’s song comes out of walking and eyeing the clouds through a cold rain as I took a walk yesterday and from watching the movie CODA the other night. One featured song in the film was “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell. Released back in 1969, it didn’t make a great impression on this thirteen-year-old American male. It wasn’t until later that I appreciated the song’s nuances and insights about change and perspective.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters when you’re able. Here’s the music. Guess what I’m doing now? If you guessed I’m going for coffee, you’re wrong. I already have it. I’m drinking my coffee. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 