Six days of dry, sunny days in the northern rainforest can throw off my internal clock. Experiencing it dog sitting at a friend’s beach house compounds the problem. Here at water’s edge, I feel my sleep patterns slipping as we stay up with the daylight of each lengthening day., seduced by how it deepens shadows on surrounding mountains while appearing to set alight their remaining snow. (My word selection is also affected).
Aki and her dog buddy seem unaffected. Yesterday, or was it the day before, we took them up a forest trail, crossing several small streams with the careful asymmetry of a Japanese garden, until reaching a pocket meadow dotted with stunted pines. For the dogs we could have been on any trail frequented by other dogs that leave behind signature smells. I hoped to find the magenta flowers of a Shooting Star. Even this long stretch of good weather couldn’t force that miracle in May.
Last evening, Memorial Day in the USA, we found a patch of the flowers in full bloom in a beachside meadow. We had ridden there on bicycles, Aki riding in a handlebar basket. While we ate a late picnic dinner at meadow’s edge the air filled with geese and gulls disturbed by others there to enjoy the convergence of sun, warmth, and the holiday that marks the beginning of our summer. A bald eagle, securely placed mid-river on a protruding drift log root, appeared to ignore the cloud of gleaming white gulls and scattering Canada Geese.