A Shroud of Fog

Instead of wild fires and thick, acidic, choking smoke, this summer blessed us with rain, clouds and morning fog. On the way to the office this week, fog wrapped a gray shroud around the shoulders of Commencement Bay leading out to the south Puget Sound.

The weather, a blessing in disguise.

The smell of salt water beats a forest fire any day of the week in my world.

Enjoy the beauty of simple pleasures this weekend.




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Son-of-a-Peach Rose

Happy 4th of July to those of you in the United States. Happy post Canada Day to my neighbors to the north.

For the rest of you around this beautiful planet, here is the first bloom from a clipping of a friend’s rose bush. The parent bush we affectionately call “Peach Rose,” not to be confused with the baseball player, Pete Rose.

A rose by any other name would be just as peachy.

Peach Rose’s offspring, the stick in the mud, well I couldn’t help myself—at the suggestion of a couple of friends its nom de plume is Son-of-a-Peach Rose. Here’s looking at you kid.

Have a great weekend everyone.



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John Hinerwadel and Syracuse Salt Potato Revisited

Revisiting a summer classic over at the BoFN this month: John Hinerwadel. Enjoy!

The Blog of Funny Names

Welcome back funny names fans! Summer has just bloomed in full and I thought a summer classic post would be in order. And to tell on myself, I had to get a deadline extension for my dementia home care book because I couldn’t juggle all my hot potatoes. So without further ado . . .

Today’s post is brought to you by the words eponymous and synonymous. And not just because they sound good together.

A little history first. The majority of the salt used in the United States before the 19th century came from Syracuse, New York—dubbed “the Salt City.”

Between 1845 and 1852, during the Irish Potato Famine, an estimated one million Irish died from famine. One million more emigrated from Ireland to other parts of the world. Many of them passed through New York looking for work.

If you were a miner arriving in New York…

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Twilight in Blyn, Washington

Twilight over Strait of Juan de Fuca.

The solstice is tomorrow. This was the view from Blyn, Washington, last Friday evening well after 10 p.m. My cell phone did not do this vista justice. The dark line in the water—hundreds of Canadian geese gliding silently into the shoal (right side of photo) jutting into Sequim Bay.



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A Quiet Morning Walk

There is a paved trail not far from my home. I love to run and walk along it. Sometimes a bald eagle will fly overhead. Wild rabbits race along the trail darting into the underbrush. Small birds sing in the trees and eat the pollen from the white and magenta-colored fox glove. Wild flowers, ripening black berries and sweet grass dance in the air. Frogs croak a chorus in early spring and crickets rule the summer evenings.

Some mornings, especially in summer, the trail is filled with people. Bicycles whiz by, dog walkers ramble, parents with jogging strollers pad along the path, joggers plugged into their music pass, elderly couples stroll hand in hand and teenagers on skateboards roll up and down the low hills—all on their way somewhere.

Sometimes I am early enough there are only a few people on the trail.

On this morning, the four of us each moved the same direction along the path enjoying the solitude of the space between us.

There is a quiet bit of celebrating here, this blog passed the 500 post mark a few weeks ago.

Happy Father’s Day to you if you are celebrating. For the rest, celebrate whatever you are enjoying this weekend.



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An Oyster-Colored Sky

Sometimes my husband and I take a quiet moment before work. We will stop somewhere to soak in the scenery. On one of the rare moments shortly after sunrise, there was an oyster-colored sky. The morning marine layer still blanketed part of the water. The water lapped against the shore and salt and seaweed perfumed the air. This was the view of Tacoma, Washington’s Commencement Bay from the city of Ruston.

I love the beauty in a morning like this.

Enjoy the rare moments this weekend.




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When Your Favorite Mountain is Having a Bad Hair Day or Is It?

My mother-in-law owned a large troll doll collection. The trolls laid siege to the china hutch in her dining room. One of my fondest memories is her combing out their hair. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I have never seen a troll doll have a bad hair day.

My favorite local mountain, now that’s a different story. Last fall I took some friends to Mount Rainier National Park. While we were there the mountain, in a fit of “peak,” up-combed this cloud celebrating it’s inner troll. You go Mount Rainier.

Bad hair day or letting out it’s inner troll?

I think Justin Timberlake expressed it best in his song from the movie Trolls, “Can’t Stop the Feeling!” Take it away Justin . . .

Have a great weekend everyone.



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