The Perfect Sunday

The view from my front yard. I am so glad my neighbors have gorgeous trees.

Not only is fall my favorite season, fall Sundays rank right up there at the top of the list.

What comprises a perfect fall Sunday?

coffee with my honey
the Sunday paper, waiting for me to read it after lunch
church, complete with plenty of energy and excitement garnered by the children
an afternoon free of responsibility
a lovely walk being pushed along by autumn bursts of wind and swirling leaves
empty roads
other walkers and joggers, accompanied by their dogs
making it almost home before the rains began
soup
cool weather just begging for cozy sweaters and fires
wet kitties making footprints where ever they roam
football, compliments of the Seahawks

What makes your Sundays perfect?

Looking forward to next Sunday.

Who Loved Our Spring Rain?

Pink rhododendrons adored the misty climate.

White rhododendrons drank deeply of the saturating moisture.

Coral bells tipped heavily after two days of spring precipitation.

A weed! Taller than the tulips, it relished the empowering water.

The used-to-be-a-stick dogwood tree, which blooms later than the other sort, happily weathered the storm. Now it is seeking sunlight.

Pink clouds of fluff benefited and beautify the garden.

Overwintering kale, flowering now, is ever strong and prolific. I may be sorry for letting it go to seed.

Though wind tore down all previous attempts at blooming, the rain did not hinder, but encouraged success.

Potatoes-in-bags sprang up to new heights. Time to rebury the stems.

Beans shot up overnight when their thirst was quenched.

Ever bearing kale, a new variety this year, has burst into production. Kale, anyone?

Strawberries refreshed themselves with water from heaven.

Not pictured? The slugs. Squashed does not make good photos.

Who wasn't too excited? The gray kitties. Mabel here, showing why we sometimes have flat strawberries in our garden.

What a wonderful blessing, this gift of rain!

Strawberries in the Spring

Nothing says spring better than red, ripe strawberries. Unless it is the same juicy bundles of tartness wrapped in delicate spring rain.

Sunday Loop

With gorgeous weather on Sunday afternoon, we saddled up the Honda and went for a drive. Once we were out of the valley, sharing ice tea to wash away the excellent but lingering flavors from pesto pasta and veggies, the weather cooled enough to be perfect. We ignored the looming thunderheads that danced along ridge tops.

Plan 1 was to head to Randle on HWY 12, going over White Pass. Plan 2 was to avoid hitting deer or elk. Kevin's plan 3 was for people to stop tailgating our Sunday drive.

Plan 4 was a change from the same return trip, instead going on HWY 123, connecting with HWY 410, and looping back over Chinook Pass and heading into Yakima from that direction.

Our first stop was at the Butter Butt Coffeeshop in Randle. We had to go, just because of the name! We split a delicious (pricey) bacon, cheese, green onion scone. We took our iced lattes to-go and hit the road after the Kevster confirmed the HWY number for connecting to HWY 410, as we did not have a map.

Beautiful weather. Refreshing trees. Lack of bugs. Tons of traffic. Great minds think alike? I adore the smell of pine forests. Wearing a helmet with the vents open kept me deep breathing most of the trip. If only I could capture that and bring it home. Canned pine is not good.

Helmet hair

We stopped at a creek bridge to finish our coffee. It IS possible to have a drink with a helmet on, but challenging. And the back seat person at times gets sprayed with what doesn't make the mouth.

Chinook Pass furnished scintillating alpine spring colors and scenes. We were over the pass about 2 weeks ago, and Tipsoe Lake was totally snowed and iced over on that chilly day. On Sunday, large swathes of icy water and thousands of flowers were on display. As evidenced by the lots full of traffic, travelers, cameras, and pedestrians. Mt. Rainier shone splendidly with a racing clouds and blue sky backdrop.

Most of my photos where shot as we traveled. It's a bit of a challenge, with the helmet mask in the way, and Kevin's head blocking 45 degrees of vision, but all I do it point in the general direction and click. I check for success when we get home.

As we came down 410, the clouds certainly seemed darker but theatrical. Not much later, we hit a light rain. We stopped at the Bumping Lake cut off, contemplated the side trip to the end of the lake, and considered the darkening clouds and sprinkles of rain. We quickly tucked away and camera and saved that adventure for a different day.

Just in time. Within a few miles, we hit real rain. The first real rain we've encountered on the bike. Enough to soak our socks and the front halves of our bodies. Kevin caught most of it while what missed him soaked me. We got chilly enough that I decided to make hot soup for dinner as soon as we got home. No pictures of the rain.

Once we hit Naches, poof. Oven and hot fan back on. Ugh. Yes, we dried up quickly. Except for the socks. But I do prefer the cool mountain air and evergreen freshness.

We had soup for dinner. Kale, hominy, black bean spicy soup with multi-grain chips. Mmmmm.

This is the day the LORD has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it! (Psalm 118:24)

Where shall we go next Sunday?

Super Nana

Super Nana struck again. Bonus points awarded for extreme sports. Despite heavy downpours and cautious adults, Super Nana whisked away socks and pants (his), zipped up the hoody, grabbed the camera and umbrella, and headed out to wade in the slickery fast street gutters. Oh yeah.

Upped my "favorite toy" status.

Umbrella

While walking down the streets of Paris one afternoon, we enjoyed the pleasant weather. People watching filled our minds with images of beauty and interest. Waves of shoppers and strollers passed, holding hands, pacing briskly, both empty hands and hands filled with purchases.

Without much warning, the skies darkened and opened. Nothing like an easy going mist, but a full blown summer rainstorm pounded down and glistened on city sidewalks and streets.

Bloomp. A veritable sea of dark colored umbrellas and striding legs flowed where just moments before faces and entire bodies were visible. Where had the umbrellas come from?

Then bloomp. The clouds dispersed. The sky cleared. A snap of the fingers and all signs of umbrella life disappeared, back to the mysterious nether regions of storage.

The only sign of the storm was the shine of cobbled walkways. No evidence of an afternoon disrupted. Life continued.

As did people watching.

And Voila', A Double Rainbow

A rainbow - the sign of a promise and of hope (my theme yesterday, on a beautiful, about 78 degree day, clear skies, wonderful). I posted a rainbow photo, taken a few years back when I was traveling through Yellowstone.

This morning, I walked out of the house to find black clouds and rain. Gone was the lovely weather (unless you love rain as I do). At about 6:20 am, driving through the rain to the morning coffee and on to school, a rainbow and an echo rainbow (a brilliant one and a lighter one) showed up against the dark clouds.
Yes, I was driving, but it was too gorgeous to ignore.

Digging in my bag, I hauled out the camera, and clicked away. Between the rain, the wipers, the other cars (who were cramping my freedom to use both lanes) and buildings, I was quite pleased to get at least one decent, although somewhat blurry, shot.

Just for me. A reminder of a promise and a hope.

And after yesterday's volcano treats, a phone call today, and the boy is on the way. Despite world events. :)
A promise and a hope.