, , ,

I remember a night of my first quarter at Western Washington University…

It was fall, and there was a huge windstorm with leaves blown helter-skelter. There was a lamp beyond the balcony and some of the leaves cast bat-like shapes and shadows on the shade. My heart leapt into my throat, making it dry with fear. They’re coming to get me! (Bother imaginations).

My roommate Keita and I heard this massive meaty snap of a thick branch breaking off. We found out this morning it snapped (more like completely smashed) another lamppost along the trail that leads up to my faery trail.

They decided to fell the tree and are working on that this morning.

I opened the window two or so feet (not too much though, still cold outside) and was kneeling in front of the windowsill with my camera taking pictures. I think I was annoying Keita (who was trying to do homework) by asking odd questions like:

  1. I wonder if those are construction workers?
  2. It seems they would take off a bit of the trunk at a time instead of felling the whole thing.
  3. I wonder what they’re doing with those ropes?

Keita finally said: “I don’t know, Arielle,” and I decided I’d better keep my comments to myself.

It seems like the oddest questions come to my mind:

  1. I wonder why that sunset is peach?
  2. I wonder how they made that building?
  3. How do squirrel’s claws support their weight to climb trees?
  4. What makes these squirrels dark-furred? None back home all—they’re all a dull grey.

I’m always asking questions. Sometimes I think that’s the only way you get answers in life. If you don’t ask, nobody tells you anything.

(A short time later…)


I went to ask what they were going to do with the wood (I was thinking firewood for camping trips. Plus it’s cedar, so it burns well and smells marvelous), but they said they couldn’t give it away, and that it was going to some compost place.


Golly, I can’t believe I just did that. Reminds me of something mom would do, she’s a heck of a lot more outgoing than I am. I think I did it partly because when I announced that I might, Keita didn’t sound overly convinced that I would, so then of course I had to own up to my statement and do it.


Now I actually have to start on my homework. Then I’m off to lunch, and then to packing, then heading out. I’m carpooling Keita’s friend—Jane—to Tacoma, then I’m on to home.

I hope I don’t get lost.