a fog

The winter fog is hanging around again. I don’t mind it. It’s almost like a childhood blanket, or a locked front door, protecting us from what is just beyond our view. Of course, one of those is less protective, so maybe it is more like that blanket.

The world could be burning on the other side, but I wouldn’t know.

Just the other night, a few coyotes were calling out into the dark. Their cries growing louder before they seemed to pause just across the street from us. I peeked out the window, squinting through the darkness, hoping to see their shapes loping down the street, but this fog had already moved in. I couldn’t see any movement in the woods and their yips were innocent enough before turning to cries as they went back out towards the valley.

In search of something they couldn’t find here.

There’s comfort in that too, like the fog, but different. I thought about those coyotes the other day. I had not heard their cries in some time, worried that the influx of new cookie cutter homes, transplant Californians who have no regard for the wild nature of Oregon (sorry Californians… you know who I’m talking about) and those late summer wildfires that have been uncomfortably close to our house might have pushed them elsewhere. But there they were. Their cries clear against the blurry view out my window.

I sighed. It was a nice reminder that things were still as I loved. At least some of the important things.

There is a buzz amongst that community of like minded music fans I’ve found myself in today. Rumors of a tour announcement have everyone giddy with anticipation. A firehouse amongst them predicts that announcement won’t actually happen until February, but people are still waiting with baited breath. Refundable rooms are getting booked based on venue rumors, RVs are getting lined up, travel plans are being made… but I’m holding back.

Aside from our annual trip to the Gorge on Labor Day and perhaps the other PNW shows (crossing my fingers Vancouver, BC makes the list because that passport is not using itself), I’m not sure what we’ll do. We’ve talked at length about making it to the Texas shows… seeing my dad… seeing old friends… filling my heart up with a couple of days back home, you know, killing a few birds with one stone kind of thing. But who knows. Do I have the stomach for late spring/early summer shows at Texas amphitheaters now? I don’t think I had the stomach for that back when I lived there, but I managed somehow. I suppose I could manage again.

This past year was an exceptional year. Already having tickets secured for our usual spots due to the tour delay that COVID caused, it was easy to add on shows like Bend, Denver and NYC. This year will hopefully not afford us that opportunity, as fun as it was, and we’ll be back to sensible concert goers.

I’m not overly sad about that. It would be nice to go somewhere without obligation to an evening at a show.

As blasphemous as that is.