writing

Friday evening and the white-winged dove makes its plaintive cry somewhere nearby. Sometimes they are relentless, going on and on like a lonely vendor in an out of the way stall at closing time, crying out to passers by as it tries to make a few more sales before having to go home to a hungry family.

This is that Friday time. This is that time—that expectant time that feels so full of possibilities, so full of freedom. This is that time—that time that never quite was and never is, always nostalgic without having any definable basis in past events. This is that time—filled with falsehoods and nothing solid, yet always feeling wonderful just the same. It’s that Friday evening feeling and the plaintive cry of the white-winged dove fits it perfectly.

Sunset on a Friday evening

Sunday night it was raining and I got to do one of my favorite things — sit in my attic room and listen to the rain fall just above my head. It’s the place to sit and write, paint, spend quality time with my cats or just think. It’s winter now and sometimes I nap there with visions of seed catalogs dancing in my head (you should see that — well, then again, maybe not).

Being up in my attic when it’s raining might be the most perfect circumstance I’ve ever encountered. Sitting at my desk in front of a louvered dormer window listening to rain fall creates a state of almost perfect bliss for me.

Our house was built in 1923 and the original owner was an architect who worked for Sinclair Oil (the Sinclair Building is one of my favorites downtown — classic Deco, with stylized metal eagles) and designed over 2500 gas stations in the southwest US from the 20s through the 50s. Gas stations could look a lot more interesting back then. There’s one only a few blocks from here, though of course now it has been unceremoniously demoted to a Dominoes Pizza and painted all one color. It’s not even a nice color. Still it retains its understated style.

This man painted and at some point finished out the attic to use as his studio. My guess has always been that it happened in the 40s though it could have been earlier. There’s wood paneling all around. It has two dormers on opposite sides (north and south facing) and a cute exhaust fan that lives behind a hidden door in the paneling. So the ventilation is decent. Later someone even vented it to the a/c. There are also several closets with doors seamlessly placed in the paneling and built-in shelves in one area. I did my best while designing and building two bookcases to create something modern yet in keeping with the spirit of the room.

Having coffee at my little table up here in the morning and listening to the rain hit the roof above is the best way to start my day. So I guess it’s just too bad we’re in the middle of this seemingly endless drought, huh? But, even I if lived somewhere it rained all the time and rain was nothing special, I would still love it. It’s wonderful up here rain or shine.