It was cold this morning, even snowing for a little while, but now the sun is out and the Earth is getting warm. I am the only teacher in the teachers room and I am looking out at the sun-bathed mountains outside of the bay window, watching the sunlight as it drifts through the steam of my coffee. The trees covering the mountains are mostly all Japanese cedars and the mountains stay green all year round. Some trees have been cut down somewhere nearby, and a helicopter is busy transporting the huge logs from the logging site to a pile of other logs just below the school. Methodically, the helicopter comes and goes, returning from its voyage with a bundle of logs, pausing for an instant while the rope below is unclipped, and then taking off again to the site of the fallen trees. Its rope drags through the air, following a different sort of physics from the rest of the chopper. Dangling. I feel like I’m watching an insect, maybe a be collecting pollen in a field of flowers. Not much thought behind any of this, just a rythmic dilligence at the task at hand, and this empties my mind and puts my heart in a state of peace. Coming and going, coming and going.
A teacher enters the room, and I straighten back up and return to society.