I was in San Francisco last week for the annual ATTW conference and CCCC convention. I was absolutely thrilled to go west, to see mountains, bluer than blue skies, warm sunshine, and a bit of a city I loved living in.
As we flew over the Rockies and then the Sierras, I felt such joy. I saw mountains. Mountains! Oh, how I have missed real mountains. I never realized how much I would miss them.
San Francisco did not disappoint. We touched down in beautiful sunny 55+ degrees (it was below freezing back home). The saltiness of the air pulled me in, and I breathed deep. I was in heaven.
The week was a rush. I attended sessions (mostly on rhetoric and technology), and even presented on one panel (.pdf of my presentation cccc09 presentation (2Mb)) dealing with mobile technology, twitter, and podcasts in the classroom. I spent time with fellow Minnesota people, having lunch and dinner at various places.
The thing that strikes me the most, though, is the blue skies. Having lived in the western U.S. most of my life, I think I’ve become used to having these amazingly blue skies. They aren’t pale or diffused. They are brilliant blues, so blue it almost hurts to look at them (ok, not really — but it’s good for effect). The blue skies of San Francisco were the same blues I remembered of Southern California, Arizona, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico. It is the kind of blue that makes a day feel good,.
I came home to Minnesota where the sun was also shining and it warmed up to a lovely 64 degrees today. But the blue skies are not the same. They are not a deep, penetrating blue. Instead, they are a hazy, mystical, daring-you-to-believe spring-is-on-the-way blue. Instead of achingly beautiful, they are hauntingly beautiful. It’s different, but no less beautiful.