Fall has finally come here in Washington, dousing the fires of a seemingly never ending summer, a preview of things to come. I'm learning to savor the winter, like one savors the last couple of swigs of a glass of whiskey. Paradoxically (yeah yeah, so it seems) it is the dynamism of the seasons that allows one to slow down and switch gears. The elongated summer this year felt as a stasis: the constant oppressive heat, the halting of the winds and the drying up of the moving streams; there was a stillness that was more menacing than peaceful, as one knew that the soil and trees were drying up, and the fuel was piling up for the fires that would pour suffocating smoke into the canyons. With the coming rains and chill everything moved again and was flushed out, and the perpetually growing vegetation that demanded constant labor and attention slowed and went dormant, and one could retreat to a warm place and have the inner thoughts come back.
