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Despite the fact that in my brain it’s still January, and I’m still irrationally looking forward to all the catch-up time I’ll have in the “new year” (which is starting to look more and more like next year instead), the rhodies blooming right outside my studio window are hard evidence to the contrary.
Despite an overabundance of deadlines and studio hubbub lately—well, beautiful spring weather and productivity just don’t mix. Besides, a sunny Friday in the Northwest is basically a license to play hooky. So I took a day off and made my annual pilgrimage up to the Skagit Valley to catch the end of the Tulip Festival.
I’m glad I waited this year; not only did the blooms hit a late peak, but the weather was nearly flawless.
Unfortunately, that also meant I wasn’t alone. Finding a shot that didn’t include minivans, port-a-potties, cyclists in DayGlo jackets or entire families striking goofy poses was quite a challenge, and required a lot of waiting and creative cropping.
This time, however, I was interested in far more than just the tulips alone. So I cast a wider net, and found the magic absolutely everywhere I looked. Whenever I wandered away from the fields of pink and red, I seemed to have whole acres to myself.
Still, come sunset, the tourists had all gone home, and it was just me, the mountains, and a sea of blooms stretching to the horizon.
…it would be the unexpected blooming of an early spring.
After weeks and weeks of typical winter rain, the Tailor and I took advantage of a rare sunny afternoon and headed to Point Defiance for a stroll on the beach. We quickly discovered that nature had a few surprises for us today—beyond the perpetual shock of Mount Rainier appearing out of nowhere, that is.
The tide was way, way out today; not quite a spring tide, but almost. It was a steep descent down to the water, the crazy slope creating the optical illusion of standing below sea level. At the water’s edge we met a couple of unlucky creatures left high and dry by the tide:
first a half dollar-sized jellyfish that strayed too far into the shallows…
and then a hapless sea star who apparently made a bad choice in real estate (talk about being upside-down on your mortgage).
But the surprise of stranded jelly- and starfish was nothing to the shock we received on our way back, just a few blocks from home:
Camellias. Blooming in January. Now, I’m quite confident that I can adapt to the short, snow-less winters in these here parts—but flowers in January? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my brain around that.
(Not that I’m complaining, mind you.)
A year ago today our bright yellow moving truck pulled into Tacoma and turned the corner onto a new home, a new career, a new life. Here I am, 365 days later, and I’m still just as excited as on day one. To everyone in T-Town (and Seattle, and Portland, and everywhere in between!) who has welcomed me as one of your own: thank you, with everything I have.
I tend to be a list-maker, constantly looking ahead to what is yet to be done. And as I sifted through the thousands of photos I took over the past year, trying to narrow them down to a few favorites, a whole new to-do list emerged. Despite my best, most frantic efforts, I’ve barely scratched the surface of this new home of mine.
So I’ve got my work cut out for me. Washington, I’d like to get to know you a little better.