I don’t mind the quirks of the calendar that have me going up to Wilbur only a couple of weekends after my previous visit – except for having to lean on my friends and benefactors more regularly for use of a car…
Looking at the forecast for the weekend, I packed for the rain rather than the cold, and it was drizzly as I made my way north. I was glad to have got ahead of the rain by the time I arrived. I had already decided not to run – having been out on a long hilly run in the city on Wednesday – and since it was ten degrees colder at Wilbur than in San Francisco, and the rain set in just after I arrived, I was glad to linger in the hot plunges instead.
Watching the drops bounce off the water, I remembered a time from a couple of years ago, and it occurred to me that much of the spaciousness I feel when I settle comes only after I have quelled my initial impulse to move on to the next thing (one reason I am glad that someone else was in charge of timing zazen for most of my years of practice).
The rain got heavier as the evening wore on, and I heard later that it ended up falling as snow, as it apparently had earlier in the week. In the morning there were bright clouds, passing from orange to cream before the sun came up. I didn’t jump up to take pictures when I saw it all forming – since discontinuing my Tumblr, I have noticed that I have less of an impulse to take pictures of everything. When there was a rainbow visible after John’s lovely tai chi class, though, I did grab my camera and walked a little way down to a place I had thought of photographing the busy creek, close to the gate.
After that bright interlude, there was rapidly changing blue sky and rain for the rest of the day, mostly rain, and it never got above fifty degrees. Considering that, I was happy with the number of people who came and sat; the heating on the yoga deck did not make much difference with a cold north wind blowing through the plastic sheeting.
The storm had been supposed to continue through to Sunday, but the day started clear as if it had blown itself out. Temperatures stretched in each direction – below freezing, first thing, and while the ground temperature may not have been warmer, the sun felt good for much of the day, even if the wind was still keen.
After the last of the sits, I did run, up the boggy smelter trail, and on to the ridge for the hard climbs along the spine of the ridge, in the sun and wind. Having been getting the Coyote Peak route in my body on recent visits, I hadn’t been this way for a few months, and enjoyed the views of the mountains, the valley sides, snow to the north, and the grain silos in the wide plain. As I started to make my way off the ridge, I was quite surprised to see someone running the other way. Considering how much climbing he had just done, he looked very strong; I checked he knew where he was going, which he said he kind of did, and continued my way down to the wind chimes and the long valley return. I did see him at the baths a while later, which was good, though he said he had had to bushwhack a little, which made me wonder where he had turned.
Not for the first time, I had to pour hot water on the windscreen and windows before I left, first thing on Monday morning, to melt the frost on the glass. When I got back to the city, it felt cold there as well, especially during our lunchtime sit, with the sun disappearing for most of the hour. And now another atmospheric river is apparently on its way…
Sun and raindrops looking downcreek…
.. Must mean a rainbow in the other direction.
Bright morning sun on Sunday.
Frank likes the sun, his breakfast, and his scratching post.