Monday, February 27, 2012

February 77

I didn't know it could get that hot in February.  Yet here it was, 77 degrees on a Thursday.  So I went for a run in the park.  There were a ton of people there -- a few walkers, some frisbee golfers, and the local high school baseball team beginning practice. 

It's like you know it isn't supposed to be this warm, but rather than ponder what we've done to the Earth or what else this might mean, you figure you'll take advantage of the weather while you still can. 

One of the frisbee golfers was topless.  It was not a woman.  Although he did seem to possess a couple of budding physical attributes normally associated with the female anatomy.

The wind had blown all day -- gusty and unrelenting -- like I rarely remember.  I don't know where the wind comes from, but I think it must be from someplace in the past, because it so often awakens some memory.  I sped up, trying to outrun this particular one.

It should have been a beautiful day -- the breeze, the sun, the familiar ping of a bat piercing the air and signifying that summer wouldn't be too long.  But something was eerie.  It wasn't supposed to be this warm.  Not yet.

I continued to ponder as I ran one extra lap than my usual, an attractive girl sitting by herself in the grass unknowingly serving as my motivation.  The wind continued whipping as if we were oceanside. And you knew a storm was probably on the way.

But it never stormed.

I thought for all the world it would.  But the rest of the evening, all night, and into the next morning, there was only the wind -- the past. 

Swirling.  Howling.  Beckoning.

"I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.  I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend.  But I always thought that I'd see you again..."


  1. I was trying to find the "like" button before I realized we aren't on Facebook.

  2. Nice capture of the day here--the things we guys have done for unknown women... Sucking in our guts and running another lap

  3. Oh, and your comment about the crescent moon--Sunday evening you had Venus and Jupiter right below it! It was a rare clear night here and the sky was beautiful and that comment probably makes me sound a little nerdish.

  4. One of the frisbee golfers was topless. It was not a woman. Although he did seem to possess a couple of budding physical attributes normally associated with the female anatomy.
    HA! This made me laugh! I love when you blog!!!! I'm happy to see a post on running. Good job friend.

  5. My daughter asked me last week where the wind comes from; now I have a good answer for her!

  6. Xinh - That's too bad, because then I could also "like" your comment. I suppose it's only a matter of time before you can "like" someone's "likes."

    Sage - Thanks, Sage. Eh, I prefer "knowledgeable" to "nerdish."

    And how'd you know about the gut thing?

    OKChick - It was definitely a mansierre/bro moment. Thanks, OKC.

    Susan - Oh, I can see this mother/daughter moment now: "Well, honey. Bone says..."

  7. Isn't is something how memories can be like the wind? They can leave us feeling disheveled and off center. I hope the wind has died down your writing, as always (and giggled at the moobs comment). :)

  8. Once again a very beautiful post with a great music choice--so not apparent
    I'm one of those people who ponders why the weather is so incredibly warm instead of taking advantage of it--well we have winds worse than yours as they come from the ocean which is already warmer than normal and will be a perfect storm for a massive hurricane season

  9. I really think that we should "outlaw" men going topless...too many who choose to do so need a mansierre and that's just creepy.

    BTW: it's snowing here in Colorado. Come on over any time to take some home. :D

  10. "I don't know where the wind comes from, but I think it must be from someplace in the past, because it so often awakens some memory."

    I think I may love that sentence the most of all of the sentences.

  11. I don't know where the wind comes from, but I think it must be from someplace in the past, because it so often awakens some memory. ~ Love this. It's first-line-of-a-book good.

    Also... what's going on with Blogger comments? I'm quite disoriented!

  12. Sherri B - Well put. They certainly can, and do. Thank you.

    Pia - Thank you. I'm happy someone mentioned my lyric choice. I was kinda proud of that one.

    Renee - And doesn't it seem like the mansierre-needing ones are always the most likely to be topless?

    I would love some snow. I'm afraid we got our decade's worth last year.

    Cami - Thanks, Camster.

    J Adamthwaite - Thank you. As you're the second person to mention that line, perhaps it should have been the first line of the post.

    I thought it was just me! I've changed my settings now to embed the comments and also have taken off the word verification.

  13. Loved this. You need a retweet button.

  14. Nicely put, it is eerie. Up here in PA, the only real snowfall we had this year was back in October. This is unheard of, and something to be alarmed about, and yet. I can't complain, I just can't:)

  15. Here in Minneapolis, the winter -- normally a condition bent on destroying the integrity of flesh, your car's bumper, and the runway, should you be foolish enough to fly in the winter -- has been horribly dry, brown, and warm.

    Whatever is going on, I'm against it.


    p.s. Glad the tornadoes missed you.

  16. Winter in New York City this year has been very odd too. The only snow we got was back in October. Lots of afternoons in the fifties. Very strange!

  17. Cooper - I do! I'll have to ask my friend how one of those works. You may know her. Her name's Cooper :)

    Actonbell - I think you said it better than I did :) It's like you don't mind the warmth, but you know it can't be right.

    Pearl - I think even the trees around here were confused, as some of them didn't appear to lose all their leaves. Thanks for visiting!

    Madeleine - It's truly the winter that wasn't. Unless maybe you were in Alaska.