For De Monte y Mar’s Tuesday of Texture here are some of the textures that come from rainstorms.
Last summer we had an unusual situation, a significant amount of smoke from wildfires in British Columbia came down into the area and there was no wind to blow it off. The silence during the smoky hot spell felt eerie.
The reflections are an indication of the very low winds. In the evenings in summer the water is often fairly choppy instead of the light ripple. In the morning it is usually calmer but not the mirror like stillness. The sunsets are often lovely but at that time the sun just faded out through the thick atmosphere.
For just a moment the sun shot over the hills and through the clouds.
In a blink it was gone.
Been, mostly, away at the beach while the city had had a hot spell and smoke from wildfires in BC.
We took all the animals (two dogs and the cat) and stayed on Vashon for much of the last week. The haze made things look a bit funny, especially in the morning and evening.
Naturally we had commitments and had to spend the hottest day of the year in the city. I fail to see why, when there are only a handful of times when I have to be somewhere, and only a handful of days when it is really unpleasant in the city, that the two have to align.
The pups got to stay on the beach. Here is Asta running for all she is worth, just happy to be on the beach. The sunlight was shimmering on the seaweed so it kind of fits with the shimmer daily post prompt.
Back when I worked as stress analyst I did a lot of “delta analysis”. The basic system was in place, but things change: a part might be built of a different material, a particular mission might have higher loads than the initial predictions…The question we were answering is “is it still okay?”
There isn’t a picture to go with that…but the beach where I spend a lot of time is also a delta for a creek. Over the years the silt has built up and the landscape and animals one sees have changed. One thing I find really cool is that every year the path of the creek through the delta shifts because of winter storms…so it is an example of both fast and slow changes, and yet when the tide is in it looks the same as ever.
Driving home from my dad;s tonight I saw purple in the sky. From the raod I couldn’t really see much, but I was fairly close to a waterfront park (Lowman Beach in West Seattle) so I pulled over and trotted the block or so to the park.
It’s been a busy week: my niece graduated from high school and I arranged to get my 94 year old grandmother who is mobility impaired to the ceremony. My husband retired on Friday and we had a celebration dinner party. We had a family gathering today at my dad’s to celebrate a belated father’s day, the graduation, and retirement.
I almost didn’t stop for the sunset, since I was ready to be home. However, the twenty minutes or so I spent just being there, watching the shifting colors as the rays of the sun hit different clouds and breathing the salt air were more uplifting than getting home to unload the car and put things away a few minutes earlier. You can’t go back and see a sunset you have missed.
As the sky darkened I noticed the minuscule sliver of the new moon above Mount Constance. A symbol of a new beginning, change, and the circle of life. All the things today’s celebration were about.
Maybe I need to make a bumper sticker or t-shirt that says: I break for sunsets.
This cloud reminds me of a red hot piece of charcoal with dark gray ash covering most of its fire.
Thanksgiving was stormy. Yesterday dawned clear and gentle and a little lazy.
A lovely pause after the storm, and the busy rushes of being present for my grandmother after her fall and feast preparations.
A walk on the beach before someone had to drag the branch off of the driveway so I could get out…what luxury it would have been to be stuck in that peaceful morning! I’ve never had Paris, but at least I had Vashon.
There is snow on the Olympics that wasn’t there before:
Winter peace to all.
Tonight the sunset was pretty. The birds seemed to be enjoying it too.
Sadly one reason for the pretty colors is wildfires on the Olympic Peninsula. You can see the large plume of smoke in the picture below, toward the left side.
I’ve been feeling kind of beach-y this week. Between the noise and dust from a nearby construction project starting about seven in the morning and a seasonal allergy that makes it difficult to breathe so I have trouble sleeping and am prone to sneezing fits, I am a bit crotchety. It’s not really a Crisis, but it adds an edge to every minor setback in life.
I decided to go to my dad’s (he lives at the beach) and make a project I had in mind: a planter of concrete and beach rocks to replace one that falls over when the wind blows.
Naturally I couldn’t just follow the directions in the book. I tried to add complexity to the project. I came over yesterday to create a stand with feet (I like planters to not be flush against the ground). That seemed to go fine. I came over today to finish up the project. I started working and things were not going well. Then my back started aching.
So Sam and I went for a walk on the beach, Sam fished and I breathed and sniped at sandpipers, and other birds (with my camera not a gun). Sandpipers (actually most of these are Kildeer, a similar species) are well camouflaged, nervous and pretty fast movers, and I am kind of shaky so this is a bit of a sport. The birds, and there were a lot of them, don’t seem to mind Sam.
After our walk I went back to work on the project, building up the sides of the planter like a rock wall against a trash can. There wasn’t enough wall thickness between the base I made yesterday using an old 5 gallon bucket of my dad’s and the trash can I had; I made the mortar mix too dry and it couldn’t get into the nooks and crannies of the rocks. Being stubborn I persevered until there was a mini landslide.
I washed off all of the rocks and decided that, instead of giving up entirely, I would try (gasp of horror) following the directions, and use the remainder of the 5 gallon bucket as a form.
So far the follow-the-directions one is looking okay…fingers crossed. It won’t be big enough to replace my problem pot, but if it turns out I can plant a few pansies and think of the beach.