Remembrance of things past

Sometimes when I’m hanging around the Rolling Steel Tent, doing chores, reading, researching, whatever, I’m overwhelmed by a feeling of blissful contentment. Or rather, memories of blissful contentment. Those are the best kind of memories.

What triggered those memories this afternoon? Washing the windows? Reading about crows?

No. This time it was the wind.

You know how sometimes the weather is so perfect you cease to be aware of it? This wasn’t one of those times. The subtile breeze had turned into an insistent wind, just a few degrees lower than ideal but not so chilly that I’d want to shut myself inside. It was Be Aware of Me wind. It was I’m Taking the Edge Off the Heat wind. It was Smell the Spring Vegetation and Clean Air from the Lake wind. It was Be Glad You’re Alive wind.

I remembered all the other times like this and they added to the sublimeness of the current moment. Multiplied it.

Hallelujah for van living.

A cove, Lake Mead