Forecast

The forecast for the long weekend was grim.

Record breaking triple digits, fire advisories, and dangerous air quality.

Hiking, my one salvation during this pandemic, 

was not advisable or desirable in these conditions.

It was difficult to rally for three days trapped in the house,

shades drawn and the AC set to cool.

More disturbing news about the divisive idiot in the WH stoked fears about the election. 

On Friday night we went for an early evening walk around the Silver Lake reservoir

and brought home take out.  

It felt decadent and oddly festive. 

Saturday slipped away —

an online yoga class, a few hours in the kitchen, and Charlie Kaufman's new 

movie on Netflix which is brilliantly bizarre and twisted. 

We sipped tequila on the back deck as the sun slipped 

behind the ridge of trees in the canyon.  

The air was heavy and clinged to our skin like a damp cloth.

We dinned late as if we were in Barcelona on holiday.

In the middle of the night we turned off the AC and opened the windows.

A smokey overcast sunrise and breeze,

cooler but still moist, motivated us to drive west to the water.

The expanse of the ocean was immediately calming.

I could have listened to the waves breaking on the rocks below our perch for hours.

We made it through the weekend, another anti-climatic holiday,

and the unofficial end of summer.

This year has been about living while bidding time.

Treading water while trying to get to the other side of the lake.