therestlessnest

where life's not empty, it's restless.

Archive for the tag “Cliff Mass”

Rain Forest

IMG_1897 Rain Forest: the most cooling words in the world. Can’t you just feel the rain, dripping through the cool, deep shade of trees draped in moss? Aaahhh. I’m speaking of our Pacific Northwest rain forests, the great temperate forests that once stretched from Alaska to southern Oregon. Now, what is left of those ancient mossy kingdoms form the rich lungs of the Olympic National Park, breathing moisture through the valleys of the Queets, Quinault, Bogachiel and Hoh Rivers. IMG_0991They are where we go when we crave not just green but a thousand shades of green; not just trees but hundreds of giants, each one of them hundreds of years old.

My husband and I were there this weekend, backpacking along the Hoh River. As always, we packed fleece and rain gear. You never know, in the rain forest. But this was no ordinary Fourth of July trip to the Olympic Peninsula. This was the Fourth that came right after the warmest June in our weather history.

IMG_1894    It’s hard to describe to someone from, say, Arizona, what exactly is so strange about all this. Why it is incredible to camp on a gravel bar on the Hoh River without a rainfly over your tent, your sleeping bag unzipped and thrown open, the dry, clear summer twilight still faintly pink at ten o’clock, the full moon about to rise. Not only will there be no cold breeze or rain on this night in the temperate rainforest, there will barely be any darkness at all. It’s wonderful, it’s beautiful. And it’s unsettling. Normally, the first few days of July around here are still June, weather-wise, meaning quite likely rainy gray and cool. Normally, we dress warmly for Independence Day picnics and fireworks. But this year, the question we’re all asking ourselves is: is this the new normal? Hot, dry Fourth of July weather in the Rain Forest, where it rains 12 to 14 feet every year?

“Seattle on the Mediterranean,” was the headline on a New York Times essay by contributor Tim Egan, published last week. Egan points out that it’s been hotter here than Athens, Rome or Los Angeles on several days over the past month. He also cites University of Washington climate scientist Cliff Mass’ explanation of why Mass believes this heat wave is not attributable to global warming but is instead a, quote, “amplication of the upper level wave pattern.” It has to do with the jet stream being stuck in a persistent, warming ridge and trough. I think. Mass also explains high pressure over the eastern Pacific Ocean is warming the water, which warms the air flowing our way. Mass is no climate denier. His point is that when the weather is this spikey, this suddenly strange, it’s not about something that is happening incrementally and globally.

But Egan nails why it’s hard to just sit back and enjoy our Mediterranean summer. As he puts it, quote: “The current heat is a precursor, an early peek at a scary tomorrow.” We actually don’t want this to be the new normal. It’s hard to enjoy a quirky heat wave when we have much to legitimately fear about global warming.

And when we go to the rain forest, the last thing we expect is heat. Or the haze of the 1200-acre Paradise forest fire, the largest in the park’s history, blowing up from the Queets valley. A volunteer told us it will probably burn until snow starts falling. And weather-watchers are predicting another warm winter here. Strange times. Unsettling times. Though I’ll never forget our balmy night on the edge of the icy Hoh.

HBBfinalcoverBuy Her Beautiful Brain from the small or large bookstore of your choice. Find a bookstore here. Order the Kindle version here.

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Restless Breeze

TiffanyLakeToes2013I’m restless, I’m humid, I’m one big inhale. I’m a late-August breeze in the shape of a woman.

Labor Day is SO next week.

Vacation’s over. There’s work to do. But give me any excuse and I’m jumping on my bike. And/or into the lake. I’m stalking blackberry bushes with a plastic bag. I’m looking at the Washington Trails Association website, studying the Hike of the Week, reading articles about what to do if you encounter a bear.

I think the entire Northwest population is unanimous about how wonderful the weather has been this summer, even with these recent splatters of rain. It’s such a big deal for us: we don’t always have summers like this one, with tomatoes ripening in early August and day after day glittering like a glacial stream. But it also makes it very hard to say goodbye. Word from the weather watchers is that we don’t have to quite yet, thank God: the September forecast is for more, more, more.

But therein lies the challenge: how do we shift gears, get busy, get going, when our restless bodies and minds shout Summer?

I am hoping that resuming my reports from the Restless Nest will help. Breaks are good, but I’ve missed this, which is so different from anything else I do or write.

And the Nest is authentically Restless right now. Our children—who don’t live under our roof but do live nearby—are off adventuring. Claire’s in the mountains of Colorado with the Southwest Conservation Corps, out of cellphone reach for ten days at a time. Nick’s on a cross-country road trip that just got complicated by mononucleosis. He’s sweating it out on a friend of a friend’s bed in upstate New York; I’m stuck here, sending him sympathetic but useless texts.

Their absence makes for a sudden surplus of quiet. An excuse to take my own temperature.

It’s a little on the high side, I’d say, and that is not a hot-flash joke.

No, it’s more of a slightly feverish thrum winding its way through my brain, under and around the idle visions of mountain lakes and saltwater beaches; over and through the work of the hour. I didn’t have a word for it until Saturday, when, lucky me, I got to spend the day up at Hedgebrook (the Shangri-la of women’s writing retreats, on Whidbey Island) soaking up writerly inspiration. The occasion was an alumnae celebration of Hedgebrook’s 25th anniversary. The morning started with a pep talk from Brooke Warner, longtime book editor, writing coach and co-founder of the new, very exciting She Writes Press. Warner focused on what she called women’s worthiness problem. As in, I am not worthy of time and space to write. My writing is not worthy of being read. My voice is not worthy of being heard; my self not worthy of attention.

Worthiness. This is why I’m here, I thought: I really, really needed a worthiness tune-up. Because the annual portal that is Labor Day always scares me a little. Goodbye blackberries and basking; hello adrenaline, deadline pressure, expectations, worthiness crises.

And yet: going into fall with my feet browned and my legs berry-scratched means this was a good summer. One that will be inside me, half restless breeze and half rock-steady heartwood, shoring up my worthiness through the months ahead.

Radio lovers: I’ll be back on the air in September!

New Orleans lovers: today is the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Our documentary film, The Church on Dauphine Street: One Katrina Story, is available on Amazon, Hulu and other digital sites.

 

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