Seduction

Full night in Eugene. The sun set into the hazy west and the waning crescent moon follows. A few stars shine out through the moist air and city lights in the darkened sky. This is the end of my first day in this new town. My apartment is filled with boxes: full and heavy, partially unpacked, or broken down and waiting to be carried over to the recycling center. Bruce Cockburn plays quietly in the background … isn’t that what friends are for …

Yesterday, on my way through the Willamette National Forest and over the Santiam Highway my brakes began to grind — metal to metal — and the drive (already stressful) became quite harrowing. Today was filled with busy-ness as I left the car at the repair shop and walked through the city exploring and doing necessary errands. As evening fell, I felt the call to venture back outside for my usual walk.

This is, of course, not Butte. The air is warm, moist, and heavy. Even with the brisk wind that moves through I am not refreshed. I wander through the streets and feel the seductive pull of this place. Trees — maybe hundreds of different types — fill the campus along with grasses, shrubs, and flowers. I can see they are all tended and cultivated with great care. Wooden benches are placed strategically along walkways, beneath the canopies of leaves, and along garden paths. I pause to smell the roses, to experience the texture of glossy leaves, to listen to fall of water over rocks, to peer up at huge, mysterious blossoms.

This is not Butte — it is not the minimalist and subtle experience of high desert vegetation. It is lush beyond any place I’ve ever lived. As I said, it is seductive. I want to spend hours listening to the sounds of wind through each of the different trees, to watch the patterns of light through the grass gardens, to learn the qualities of each and to know them. I could become lost in these luxuriant beings.

Today, it seems like too much. Instead of looking out my windows at views of the East Ridge and the Highlands, I see garden apartments and the Matthew Knight arena

Instead of strolling in the cool mountain evening I walk through hot, still night. And yes, instead of trash strewn alleys, I walk out into clean walkways and tidy gardens. Instead of barking dogs and drunken students, there are … well … barking dogs and drunken students.

I know, I know … all things change. My experience here will change from day to day and I am sure to discover much to appreciate about this new home. It is, as I said, seductive. So clean, so green, so tidy. I can see myself flourishing here in many ways. But … this is not Butte. I’m not sure I can say that I flourished in Butte — the high desert doesn’t support much lush flourishing — but I did grow strong and sturdy. And Butte gave me enough to continue on my way …

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