Physically experiencing (and mentally noting) seasonal change makes me feel like part of this planet; like a vulnerable animal with a fallible body that spends its time out in the world, seeking food, water, sunlight, shelter. It helps me forget that I actually spend most of my working hours watching/managing time, sitting motionless inside climate-controlled spaces, and staring at artificially-lit objects.
Rain on my scalp, a runny nose on an icy day, the discomfort of sudden humidity: it makes me feel real. I savor the annually repeated firsts, like:
the first time wearing shorts after months of pants and leggings
sending the “FIRST POOL DAY OF THE SEASON!!!” text to group chats with a picture of myself, nipples barely out of frame
finally switching out a baseball cap for a beanie
a sudden, rapid increase in hot drink consumption
switching from cotton to wool socks (and back again)
Winter surprises, spring delights. These days, summer is languid joy served with a small side plate of fire anxiety. Fall is delicious; I get hungry and Jesse starts baking more often.
I genuinely thought it was March when I started writing this post. Apparently I can’t keep track of actual months and dates anymore. Only weather.
This year, it feels like the cold swept in faster than usual (I say this every fall). The cats are suddenly using us for body heat – every ten minutes I’m like, “aww they’re so cuddly lately!” (I also say this every fall).
Rigby wakes us at 4am, politely growling, asking us to cover him with a blanket.
When I look outside, I see less blue and more grey between leaves.
Under the duvet, I hiss a quiet yessssss when I feel Jesse slide out of bed and turn on the split system, then the coffee grinder.
Our house holds steady temperatures so well that I’ve forgotten how to be comfortable in the cold. I walk outside and get a rude shock – I was in a t-shirt, goddamnit! How is it only 12 degrees out there?!
My newfound lack of cold tolerance was on full display during our recent week-long trip to Tasmania. A few years ago I invested in what I call my “doona jacket” – a knee-length, obnoxiously thick puffer coat probably built for Arctic temperatures and not (ahem) Australia. I should have taken it with me.
Despite a few moments of pining for over-engineered outerwear, the trip was perfect. It started with three full days of day walks in Cradle Mountain National Park, in wildly varying weather conditions. We spotted pademelons, wallabies, wombats, and multiple species of birds endemic to Tasmania.
Tasmanian currawong song is something else.
For bird reasons, I took my binoculars with me. I cannot recommend investing in ‘nocs enough – everyone should own a pair. Looking at stuff fucking rules, and looking at stuff close up rules even harder.
Anyway! Our final two days were spent in Hobart, one of those hell yeah I could live here cities.
We went to MONA for a full day, which is exactly as good as everyone says it is. I had my retinas blasted with strobing multicolored lights while lying on my back inside a white orb for 15 minutes, before being placed in complete visual deprivation for another 15 minutes. I also had my retinas caressed by lots of very good art. Strongly recommend.
I didn’t expect to leave Tasmania experiencing a variation of the same longing I felt the first time I left Vancouver Island, but I did. We’re not making plans to move or anything – we adore our life – but I’m thrilled to have found a place so magnetic and so close to home. We’ll be back.
See my 35mm photos from the trip
Jesse and I both work for the same company (almost 6 years for me, almost 5 years for him). We both quit in April. We both finish up on May 1st.
All I’ll say is that I’m grateful for the incredible friends I made, and the financial stability it gave us. Criticizing a large corporation that’s doing what it’s designed to do in the throes of late-stage capitalism feels pointless. So I’m not going to waste my energy. Not today.
Jesse’s next step is (as yet) an exciting unknown. After 12 years in tech, I’m leaving to enter a (hopefully) more stable corporate environment. My impostor syndrome is ~peaking~ but I keep reminding myself that I felt the same way when I started this job, and that faded quickly once I got my bearings. So… I think I’m going to be fine?
The slow-motion tragedy that I keep mentioning (but still can’t discuss in detail) continues. It sucks energy from me in the background, and for good reason: there’s a lot of suffering, thrashing, misplaced distrust and paranoia. Relationships are fracturing, and there’s nothing that can be done right now.
I’ve most likely typed these exact words before, but I don’t know how else to say it: we’re taking it one day at a time. We try to carve out moments of self care and joy wherever we can. That’s all we can do right now.
I still haven’t figured out how not to feel constantly guilty about not hanging out with the people I love often enough. I’m still struggling to write back to texts and emails. Maybe this as-yet-unnameable difficult situation plus work stress is sucking more out of me than I’d like to admit.
If you have any tips for figuring out that whole mess, send ‘em my way.
And – as always – if you’re reading this, I love you.
Finishing in the usual fashion with a few faves from recently developed rolls:
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