Woke up in the Pacific Northwest in an Amtrak sleeper car dwarfed
on either side by upsweeping trees and mountain peaks. It was raining, of
course, and it looked like it had been for some time. The Skykomish, which
I'd looked on with longing from these same tracks on
my first trip to Seattle, was jamming and muddy,
about "to go sideways" over its banks. Bottomlands were flooded, a field
of floating pumpkins reminded me of cranberry harvests I've never seen. The
wind whipped the Sound, its surface like scrambled eggs. There was no one
at Golden Gardens.
Anne picked us up at the King Street Station. There's something special about
railway platform reunions; you emerge from the train directly into the weather.
The big news was Thurber waiting for us in the truck. That cat really likes
to travel, seems happiest in a box. As soon as we got in, Anne let him out
and he climbed from lap to lap, obviously in charge. It looked like we might
run out of gas and Anne wouldn't wear her seatbelt. It was good to be back,
but I felt sad & unaccomplished, sat silent in back.