I love the fog. A lot. I love hopping onto the bus that always takes me over the bridge into town and instead, leaving the Eastside by way of a skeletal, grey framework up over a traintrack and down, passing from mystery street to mystery street; accepting the turns as they come, picking up people as they appear. Then, on the way back, later in the day, finding the river, the buildings and the mountain in their dutiful places - though not always looking as they should. Today the river looked more like the Mississippi... or the river in Willy Wonka's factory: brown, frothy, sluggish. And the mountain was sharp and white over the layers of blue-grey foothills, oddly visible for a January day.
[Mt Hood Meadows 01.20.06]
[Mt Hood Meadows 01.20.06]
7 comments:
The mountain was really clear today. St. Hellens was even clear today.
What I love is standing on top of this hill where I work, gazing across the river at the fog, the hills, and the mountain. All while the sun rising. I feel like that's the closest I'll ever get to the glory of the Lord this side of heaven.
Green head to toe with envy
that picture looks like something out of a dream-so pretty!
When are we going skiing?
Allison,
You created such a beautiful portrait of something that could be seen as quite mundane: commuting. A mind that can work like that is truly a gift from God!
Thanks so much for being a good friend to Pamela. It really warmed my heart to read her blog about your house sitting "party".
Kent
aka Pamela's Dad
Mmm.... sounds adventerous.
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