It took long enough, but it finally hit 70 in Seattle. In the morning driving in how the mist clung to the trees, and it was Double Stamp Wednesday at the coffee shop, and when I left work about noon… Read More ›
pacific northwest
First there is a mountain then there is no mountain, then there is
There was the outfit I’d worn the day before and probably the day before that, in a pile on the floor by the bed. I sat up and got into it like I was going in reverse, stood up, slapped… Read More ›
Portrait of a house cat eating a bird one Thursday
Charlotte and I sat at the breakfast nook eating frozen pizza and watching our cat Roxy eat a bird. I watched Charlotte watching Roxy for a few bites before she realized what Roxy was eating and was glad when she… Read More ›
Rain prose: going to work, to live
We were between fronts again. In the morning the sound of the birds seesawing the air in their rocking chair, rhythmic arcs: those sing-song loops like fireworks for wartime, warning cries, maybe just bliss. The air was damp from last… Read More ›
First date anniversary, December 5, 1999 (Langley, WA)
I don’t remember much about the day but it was December 5, I know that much, it was Dawn’s friend Joey’s birthday and after our first date, where Dawn and I went to Whidbey Island, we went back to Joey’s… Read More ›
Jawbone arch over Useless Bay
How quiet outside at night with the crickets coming on and the sound of a fan somewhere, then something papery in the breeze, rainbow-colored wind socks, phantoms, deep sea creatures floating on a different speed, a dark, ancient voodoo, a… Read More ›
This is where we put in
We went looking for whales. We rented a condo for a few nights on one of the nearby islands, small towns with hippies, locally owned stores, everyone in sweaters and graying. It was spring break for the kids but Dawn… Read More ›
‘Most likely you go your way and I’ll go mine’
We got up. Though it was a Saturday we were out of bed by 6. It was getting grayish out and I wanted to see it. There’s a soft fade in reverse, mornings here. There’s some quiet before the kids… Read More ›
A different kind of blue | rain prose, 29 März 17
Double the average, normal rainfall for the month and year so far, double. It makes the trees look distorted like they’re rubbed out by TV static snow, makes the same crackling hiss on the ground and pavement. The static snow,… Read More ›
The Last of the Whiskey
Maybe it was the sub-tropically rooted atmospheric river we’re under in western Washington that put me in a funk with all this rain, all this weeping and draining and sagging and uprooting that got me encased in a work-induced death… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 