First day of fall

Rainbow over Bellingham Bay

I love rainbows and feel very blessed whenever I see one. Yesterday Lily and I were walking on the bridge in Boulevard Park when we saw this one. It had been raining lightly and then the sun came out. That's always a perfect scenario for a rainbow, and there it was. I smiled when I saw that boat placed perfectly underneath. Did you know (from Wikipedia)...

A rainbow is a meteorological phenomenon that is caused by reflection, refraction and dispersion of light in water droplets resulting in a spectrum of light appearing in the sky. It takes the form of a multicoloured circular arc. Rainbows caused by sunlight always appear in the section of sky directly opposite the sun.

 Yesterday was also the first day of fall. Actually, since it didn't occur until 6:47pm, yesterday was really the last day of summer 2018. Now the days will begin to shorten until we reach the winter solstice in late December, and then they will start to lengthen again. The march of the seasons.

I've been through many seasons, and I am always a little surprised that within a short three-month period, it can all change so much. Our summer was pretty normal, except it was drier than usual. Although it got warm at times, I don't think we ever reached 90 degrees (32°C), while I read about horrific temperatures all across the Northern Hemisphere. It amazes me to realize that if I wanted to experience spring right this minute, I could head to Australia, where it's springtime. One of my blogging friends who lives there posts pictures that remind me of much of our planet's magnificent variations.

I've published 463 posts on this blog, where I write once a week on Sunday mornings. I started it in late 2009, and all those Sundays have come and gone, flown right by as I live my life tucked away in the northernmost corner of the United States, in Washington State. When we moved here the year before, I had no idea that I would be writing two blogs, and they have become another world I didn't know existed. I've got a whole bunch of virtual friends who also write blogs (or who at least visit them), and I've learned so much from people all around the world who are in my "neighborhood," the blogosphere.

The word was created in 1999 as a joke, but it's now become very real: a community (or a collection of connected communities) in which everyday authors can publish their opinions. I like that term: everyday authors in a connected community. I follow almost a hundred blogs, and fortunately the vast majority of them only publish occasionally, or I'd have to cull my list. I feel connected to, and care about, people whom I would otherwise never have known. It's definitely an important part of my life.

I took a spill last week. Walking across the street from the coffee shop on my way to the gym, a pebble got under my shoe at just the right angle to cause me to twist my ankle and fall right there in the street. Fortunately there were no cars coming, but I skinned my knee and hit hard on my right hip. It was so intense that I just lay there for a moment, not sure if I would be able to get up or not. After the initial shock wore off, I sat up and took a look at my bloody knee. The pain in my hip was intense, too, but fortunately nothing was broken. I hobbled to the gym and got a bandage for my knee before climbing the stairs. And oh, it hurt to walk upwards, but I held onto the rail and made my way up.

By the time class began, I was sure I hadn't broken anything and was able to work out normally. Afterwards I drove to Fairhaven to take the first class of our 12-week semester of yoga. I told the instructor I was not sure I would be able to kneel, but it was fine. Sort of. Now it's been a few days and the hip is bruised and the knee itches as it heals, but otherwise I'm fine. It could have been so much worse.

It made me think of Lyle and what he and my friend Peggy are going through right now. If a small spill could hurt like that, what has it been like for him? He's still in critical condition in the hospital, now fighting infections and having had yet another surgery last week. I called our mutual friend Linda to find out the latest, not wanting to bother Peggy, who is going through this with him, and I found out that he's holding on, up one day and down the next. I cannot see a garbage truck in the street without imagining the scenario of having been run over by one. Their lives have been turned upside down for a long time to come.

I hope by the time we reach the winter solstice three months from now, he'll be home and learning to use his wheelchair. I heard a rumor that he may lose his other leg as well, but I can't find anybody who knows anything for sure. Maybe it's still too early; it happened on Labor Day at the beginning of the month. I will definitely keep you posted if I learn anything more.

Maybe the rainbow is a good omen, and that we will all have a week of positive news and happy reunions. I can hope for it, anyway. I found this perfect quote from Desmond Tutu:

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. 

And here it is, still very early but my tea is gone and my partner is slumbering so quietly that I had to lean over to see the rise and fall of his chest to make sure he's okay. I smile at that, knowing that he would have something cheeky to say if he were awake, but he's deep in sleep. I'm going to get up now, and start the rest of my day. The coffee shop beckons, and the day should be filled with sun and clouds, but less rain than yesterday. Please remember, dear ones, to hug your loved ones (even if virtually) and allow gratitude for all that you have to fill your hearts. Be well until we meet again next week, same time, same place.