the third thing (or, between duality)

looks like monsoon season is officially over. there's no sign of precipitation in the forecast for the next ten days, and if yesterday is any indication, only a few wispy clouds dare to visit this region as october approaches. however,the last storm through provided quite a show: lightning, thunder, and billowing dark cumulonimbi casting down snowballs. yes, snowballs. what at first looked perhaps a bit like hail felt soft and forgiving as it hit my head and shoulders. i put my hand out, and in a matter of seconds, i'd collected a half dozen dime-sized spheres of compacted snowflakes. i could see the angles of the crystals poking off the sides of each clump. i fought the urge to contact the alaskan snow name authority, and instead just stood in awe of what was coming down on me. i laughed, imagining a swarm of fairies bombarding another camp of winged sprites with these little pellets. i stood outside until my fingers turned purple (with orange spots, of course) and then i took shelter in the greenhouse with the good company of tomatoes and basil, still soaking the heat from the earlier sunbeams that had graced the farmscape.

the next day, i went to the farm again, mulched several fruit trees and harvested 30 pounds of fingerling potatoes. the sun sent warm vibrations through the air, and layers peeled off to reveal skin and freckles. after a few hours, i looked up from my patch of soil and took in the scene; red oak leaves against yellow cottonwoods and bright evergreen, lush blue sky, and sun dappled river water reflecting it all back. i went down to the banks and stretched out on the grassy flood zone. i couldn't resist. i jumped out of the remaining articles of clothing and dove straight into the river.

i broke through the surface and immediately lost my breath. my entire body went into tingle-mode as i reached up towards the sky, once again meeting the sun warmed air. the current moved me down stream as i emerged from the shock of the water temperature...which, as i could have chosen to consider, had recently dropped due to SNOW MELT. cold, amy, cold is snow. like i said, snow is cold.

i worked my body upright and scrambled to the shore, surprised and laughing. i lay in direct line of as many sunbeams as i could. the envelope of cold water was quickly replaced by warm sun, and i felt completely rejuvenated. even the ache and sniffle in my body that i'd struggled with for days--even that morning--seemed to have been shocked out of my system ("we can't survive here!" i could hear the little virus screaming, "let's get out!").

well, i guess i found an edge--between summer and winter, sanity and brilliance, gas and liquid, creation and destruction. and i suppose it's been confirmed, once again, that the edge is my favorite place to be.