Sunday, February 03, 2008
The end of Virginia Street: Reno’s main north-south thoroughfare starts in the southern suburbs, runs through the casinos, and ends in a rural dirt road running north. I like this, and miss the time when its southern end was a charming country highway heading towards Carson City.
Heading into the storm.
A common complaint of many scholars, who cover the early American republic, is that the founding fathers left behind personal journals filled with entries concerned primarily with the weather: barometric pressure, temperature, precipitation type and quantity.
I can sympathize with this habit, and even feel the temptation to note each time it snows or rains in this web log. Though I am certainly no gentleman farmer, the weather moves through and innervates everything. It is the breath of creation, and the feeling of traveling in a storm, mounted in a vehicle or on foot, comes close to what I imagine surfers to feel when they are in the pipe—an all encompassing and engaging sense of force in motion, a feeling of the world and its solid mass as a fluid reality.
And just like that, we reach a stretch of calm—odd how the mountains shape the microclimates, creating zones of intensity or tranquility with respect to wind, rain, and snow
In the shelter of the canyon
Finally, the state line
Ah, old-school 80s cartoons