Spring on the way

On the way home tonight, I stopped for gas and stood shivering against the unusually chilly wind as I filled my tank. Shortly after during my drive home, I smiled and thought pleasantly that spring was finally arriving. I don't know how I know. It's just like how I knew winter was arriving late last fall as I fueled my car in a t-shirt and shorts. The irony of both of these observations was not lost on me, although I didn't immediately recognize it.

But spring is definitely on its way back. The signs are different than they are in Missouri, and they are more subtle. You don't have a single warm, sunny day that gives you spring fever. But I noticed today that as I drove home, the seagulls were gliding in place against a stiff wind near the bridge, and the water had white peaks on the waves, like a big blue meringue. The sun is setting later, and the rain is getting less and less frequent. It doesn't substitute for the spring fever that I get after the first warm day starts turning the world green, but it's still a very nice feeling. Mostly I get excited about evening activities in the warm summer twilight. Barbecues, sports, and walks around the neighborhood.

I will miss some things. I think I'll miss the calm bay water as I make the long drive on the bridge that spans the widest part of the bay. There's so much character in the water. It's like a friend that wears a different outfit every day. Some days it's the deepest gray-blue, like a mood captured in the water. Other times it's bright blue, reflecting the cloudless sky. Sometimes it's not one color but many, such as on scattered cloudy days when the water turns lime green and silver, with blue on the horizon. On really calm days, a fog rolls in and the water is a mirror on the sky. You can't tell where the sky ends and the water begins. It feels like eternity.

Perhaps that's why the ocean is so romantic and tempting. It's seemingly never ending. It's the closest thing to eternity on the earth. It's mysterious. For me, the water paints a mood. No matter what it looks like, it defines something that I have felt, and sometimes brings the mood to me. It is reflective, introspective, unstable, but reliable.

Just one more thing and I'll let you go. I've often thought of taking my digital camera with me during my commute. I never regretted not doing so more than last week. I was driving home after a horrible day. I just wanted the commute to be over. Every once in a while, I would look up from the taillights in front of me to see an increasingly beautiful sunset. It looked like those posters you see of a packed highway with a backdrop of a distant city with the sun setting behind it. Later, as I passed through the docks of Oakland, I could see the city through giant cranes and machinery hanging in the haze of dusk. It had a surreal feeling to it, like I was watching a scene in a futuristic movie fantasy. Even this could not bring me out of my funk. But as I passed over the bridge connecting Oakland and Berkeley - which I have long said is the best view in the entire bay area - I was breathtaken. There were cars pulled over on the side of the road and cars were slowing for no apparent reason. Annoyed, I looked towards the city and nearly forgot I was driving. It's hard to describe the beauty of this view on a normal day. If I time my commute just right, I can see the lights of the city balanced perfectly against the fading light of dusk, creating a near magical experience of twinkling lights, and tall majestic buildings towering in the haze above the dark, sleeping mountains. All this is reflected by the shimmering water flowing under the Golden Gate Bridge. But tonight! It was as if a volcano was erupting behind the city and spreading across the sky. The deepest blues and violets were brushed sporadically against the scarlet of the clouds, and hints of orange crowned the tops of the mountains, as if the sun didn't want to go to sleep and was fighting it's hardest to stay in the sky. It was easily the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen...and I didn't even stop. Any other day and I would have, and I still regret it now.

Stop and smell the roses? Just stop and admire the sunset.