I drove to Vacaville yesterday just to see the mountains. On the way home, I stood for twenty thrilling minutes in a fierce wind to video-tape the windmills. My body swayed with the force of the air pushing against it. I studied the snow-capped Sierras on the far horizon. I could not have ordered a lovelier day.
In the grocery store parking lot, two ladies grinned as their carts bumped mine. I watched them move beyond me to their vehicles. They loaded bags into each of their trunks, one grey head bending over to lift a Lira’s re-usable bag, one dark black sheaf of straight hair doing the same. They stood chatting and then turned to leave. They each gave me a little wave. I think they mistook me for someone else but i waved back.
On the road to Park Delta Bay, I stopped to photograph the barge. It has turned in the last few days. I studied the rust of its girth, marveling at the heaviness of it. The river rippled, its natural current meeting the rise of the evening breeze around the curve of the island towards the marina across from where I live.
When I descended the pavement to the park, I noticed a flock of crows in the trees over my row. They guard me. I stood talking with my neighbor for a few minutes, then went inside. I found myself smiling for the rest of the day, and into the evening. The wind had cleared my soul of pettiness, if only for a little while.
It’s the twenty-seventh day of the fifty-first month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
Here’s a video of the windmills. My apologies; the wind noise continues throughout.