(Note: last night's post was the 100th for the PPA, unremarked upon at the time -- blame the Belgian beer)
I'm a bit hockeyed out after watching last night's game, and then voraciously devouring the post-game blogs. The result seems to have provoked a lot of strong reactions; Sabres fans taking the loss the way I would if my team lost a game seven and my house burned down; the predictable jokes about 'Canes fans; and Jes Gőlbez's entertaining (if savage) broadside against Buffalo's reaction.
Welcoming a few days' respite from hockey, before I start my divided cheering (I just want everyone to do well!), I went for a long walk through the neighborhood this morning. It's been soul-crushingly hot of late, and as may be apparent, I don't react well to heat or humidity. Last night, though, it poured rain, and oh the difference it made. I slept well, woke up refreshed rather than oppressed.
And then, as I was saying, the walk. I sometimes forget just how green Atlanta is. It's one of the things that struck me most when I moved out here; while Colorado is one of the two places in the world that qualifies as paradise made reality, its diversity of flora leaves something to be desired. Atlanta is just lush, and never moreso after a storm. With the sky washed out to a pale gray, and the sun (dreaded, hateful sun) no longer a presence, the overhanging trees take over -- it's as if there's nothing overhead but an endless canopy of verdant leaves. The humidity was present as always, but robbed of the fiercer heat, it was almost welcoming -- steamy and exotic rather than sweltering.
It was a brief stroll -- just up to my favorite used bookstore (about which more, someday) and back -- but comforting, and after some weeks in which I've felt like a hamster in a wheel, relaxing. I'm not ready to welcome the heat and humidity into my heart, but it's nice to remember that there is beauty even in the things I hate.