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Picture of the Day
 Sunday
February 20, 2022
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how do you celebrate presidents' day? i was unaware it was a holiday weekend, but not knowing what day it is is one of the great liberations of being on vacation, and i'm here almost long enough to forget what month, too, though that's more of a  somatic confusion fueled by dislocation from seattle winter. but for a moment yesterday i did think it was april. anyway, apparently it's an annual tradition for barry and allison to reserve a national park wilderness cabin in haleakala crater this time of year, so we mobilized our overnight Pickle Posse--bryon, barry, and me. allison and her sister heather stayed last night and we crossed paths on Keoneheʻeheʻe trail as we descended and they trudged up. going down is harder on the feet than hiking out and it didn't help that my inadequate running shoes were too tight and the socks i borrowed too thick, but there was plenty to distract me from fixating on that and i put my upgraded phone upgrade (13 Mini to Pro) through its paces, testing its various modes, filters, and zoom. the 85-year-old cabin at Kapalaoa is the only structure for miles around, threshold etched with concentric circles of door wear, like growth rings or ripples in time. no other hikers passed while we were there, nothing to do but talk story, play games, and laugh. i tried a long exposure of the sky, pondered the difference between what is there and our ability to perceive it, all those stars shining invisibly exerting their influence, clouds and rock equally ephemeral in eternity. slept deep in the silent stillness until a large animal ransacked the cabin and roused me middle of the night, but it was only mountain man bryon, earning the nickname Baby Bear. i was grateful for the disturbance; it sent me outside to pee, moon now risen bathing the basin in silver light, everything so crisp and quiet.