It’s one of those classically gray-and-rainy Seattle early winter afternoons. A day where the sky and the water and the land snuggle up right close until there’s no point in trying to tell them apart. A salmon spawning day — I saw the coho wriggling their way back up Piper’s Creek this morning. I consider how on the one hand I can feel my motivation ebbing like the tide, even as I marvel at the sheer orneriness of life fighting its way upstream against all odds.