Well, hello there!

Didn't I see you in a movie once?

Counterpoint: First sunset of 2011

 

Leaving Edmonds. That's a blue heron sitting up there. 

Across the Puget Sound, looking toward the Olympic Mountains

Vacation Videos! With Trains!

Just in case you missed this over on my facebook. . .

Beach Day Pictures - Wednesday's Low Tide

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Have you ever been in one of those fake nature simulations - say, at Magic Mountain, where they have fake trees surrounded by fake waterfalls, and piped-in bird noises? Or maybe at the zoo, where they have dioramas displaying what life is like "out in the wild"? Or even a native American display in a museum, where they have a model Indian home with some fake cedar trees and piped in bird and wind noises?

Or maybe you've just listened to Bird Notes on NPR, or bought a CD on Identifying Bird Calls in the Wild.

Anyway, the point is, that's what it sounds like outside my office this morning. It's a cornucopia of tweets and twitters and chirps and chirrups and woo-l00-loos and the like. It's utterly amazing. And I suddenly realize I can't identify even one of them.

But spring is here, and I live amongst the wild and wooly (and feathery) flora and fauna of the great Pacific Northwest, and I'm loving it. It's like having my very own nature show piped into my office, only it's the real thing. You all should be so blessed.

One of those days

Yesterday was once again one of those days that makes the rest of the world wish they could live in the Puget Sound area. Clear blue skies, snow-capped peaks ringing the flatlands, waves chopping the Sound, a crisp, chill bite to the air, a high of about 34 degrees. . .ah. What could be better?

We took the ferry over to Seattle yesterday morning, so Olivia and I could meet my dad and go together to the Model Railroad Show at the Pacific Science Center. The ferry ride would have been enough, with a view up toward Mt. Baker, and Mt. Rainier holding court to the south, the waves blowing liquid spray over the bow of the boat. The model railroad show was certainly a lot of fun - Olivia especially noticed the preponderance of Thomas the Tank Engine models - and the MLK Jr. festivities in the Center House, complete with Gospel Choir, all made for an exciting afternoon.

There's a park on Queen Anne Hill. If you've never been there, I'm certain you know about it anyway. Because 1/2 of all postcard shots of Seattle are taken from this location.

Recognize it? Go ahead, google "Seattle" and click on images. You'll find this picture, and many variations on it. It may be Seattle's most famous viewpoint.

Unbeknownst to a lot of people, though, they recently installed a marvelous children's play area at the park that lies directly below this park. Our kids were a little wired and needing to burn some energy off, so we took them to that play area, letting them slide and climb and swing to their heart's content.

Later we wandered back upup, and noticed that in addition to the news crew, there were many photographers setting up their tripods, staking out prime viewing locations. It was becoming quite a crowd.

It took me a bit to finally understand what was happening. They were all setting up to watch the sunset over Puget Sound, with the light of the setting sun reflecting off of downtown and Mt. Rainier.

So I went back down, collected the girls, and climbed back up again, so we could all enjoy this rare Seattle display of sunshine.

You know those scenes you see on tv, when a star is walking down the red carpet, or shows up at a night club - the oohing and aahing, the click-click-click of camera lenses?

It was like that. We all watched to the East until the last sliver of the sun disappeared behind the Olympics, and suddenly cameras came alive, people stirred in excitement and wonder, couples stood to have their pictures taken with the city as their background, a hundred professional and amateur photographers got off shot after shot, painters feverishly worked their brushes and water colors. . .the city lit up in gold flake - the sun glinting off the high-rise windows - while Mt. Rainier chortled in purple majesty.

All of this for nature, for beauty, for mountains and snow and setting sun. It was an instant community, gathered for the sole purpose of enjoying the most impressive lighting display you will ever see. "The Heavens Declare the Glory of God, the Skies proclaim the works of his fingers."

It was wonderful and magical and heart-warming to be a part of. I think Heaven may be just a little bit like that. And I was gladdened to see that people still care about this world in which we live.

It was, as I said, a day to make the rest of the world jealous. And a day to remember for many, many days to come.

Oh, and then - we stopped and ate El Salvadorian food for dinner on the way home. So make it simply the most perfect day ever.

Happy Thanksgiving

We had a friend stop by. I think he was hoping for leftovers.



Sorry for the blurriness of the shot. I think we need a super-duper telephoto lens for Christmas. But you get the idea.

Way Up North

Up here, fall is beautifully upon us. Everywhere I look, I see the yellow of maple leaves outlined against the deep greens of cedars. We wake to fog in the bay below us, a fog that drifts through the trees and embraces us deeply. As I walk outside every morning I hear the call of ducks heading south. The smell of woodsmoke intermingles with the fog and the clean scent of rain-soaked leaves. People are back to wearing sweaters and flannel shirts. There was ice covering the puddles this morning. Our driveway is a blanket of fallen maple and magnolia leaves. We are surrounded by color, covered by fog and clouds. For those with eyes to see, the handiwork of the Master is breathtaking. Fall brings about a quietude, a simplicity, a slowing down. I look out my window and contemplate the overlap of fog and tide, mixed with knife-beams of the morning sun rising over Penrose Point to light the cove to our East. Nothing down there has changed in 50 years, and a simpler life calls us back. These are the times we must pay attention: we are in the midst of change. Summer is no longer here, winter has yet to come. Fall, like spring, is a transition. Transitions are good times to slow down and observe. The Spirit, like the world, is moving. We do well to prayerfully pay attention.

So do this: turn off the television, and go for a walk. Or sit at your window with a hot cup of tea and simply observe all that you see outside. Breathe. Pray. Light a candle and turn off the lights, gazing out at the moon shining upon a land that is closing itself up for the winter. And listen. The voice of the Spirit is speaking.
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One more sign that fall is upon us: At Fred Meyer on Monday, I noticed they were selling egg-nog. But before you get too excited, it wasn't just any egg-nog. It was Pumpkin Egg-nog. I love Egg-nog, although I refuse to drink it before November, for convention's sake. But Pumpkin Egg-nog? That is just so wrong at so many levels.

Snapshot from the Fourth

I took Olivia over to Penrose Point for an hour or so yesterday afternoon. We parked the Jeep and walked a forest-shaded path out to the Eastern beachline. From there, we wandered north toward the tip of the peninsula. Along the way we discovered jellyfish, crabs (dead and alive), barnacles, and cool-looking rocks. To our right Puget Sound fell away, with Mt. Rainier rising over Steilecoom in the distance. A C-117 from McChord AFB circled lazily over Tacoma.

We passed the final bluff, giving us full vision of the northern beach, and there, about 20 yards away, sitting atop a large boulder, sat a Bald Eagle, gazing north across the Bay. We stealthily approached, but he saw and flew to a further perch. So we stood and watched him, as he kept one eye on the water and another on us. To his right, a heron waded slowly along the shoreline.

Eventually, we made to walk closer to the Eagle, and got within 30 feet or so, but he decided that was enough and flew into the forest to our south. I told Olivia how special this was - seeing America's National Bird on America's birthday.

She was more interested in the clam shell she'd just found. But it was wondrous, just the same.

Life in Lakebay

Yesterday I sat in our Administrative Assistant's office, looking over some paperwork, when I was attacked by a bat. A little furry thing. But have you ever had a bat flying around your head in an enclosed place? Gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Said bat eventually ended up on the floor. I grabbed a pot from the kitchen and threw it over the bat. Then slid a piece of cardboard under the pot, trapping the bat inside the pot. Except when I went outside to release Mr. Bat, he was no longer in the pot. "Creepy," I thought. "I hope he's not a vampire who did his voodoo disappearing thing on me." I figured maybe he flew away so quickly I just didn't see him. (Side note: Why do I assume it was a male bat? I have no idea.)

20 minutes later I was in my office, working on an important letter preparing for a tough meeting, when the bat flew in and attacked me once again. No heebie-jeebies this time; just a case of the willies.

Once again, said bat ended up on the floor, once again I threw a pot over the bat, and then let him sit for 30 minutes to think about his actions.

Eventually, I found a flat piece of glass, like a small table-top, which I used to seal the bat inside the pot. Once again, I took the whole thing outside. This time, I pulled off the pot and the bat just sat their looking recalcitrant. I took him over and tossed him into a bush.

"There. Let that be a lesson to you."

Do other pastors ever have to battle wildlife in their offices?

Oh, by the way. I took a bike ride to clear my mind before the meeting, and I was attacked by a big black dog. I think nature is out to get me.

Ahh, Spring

Yesterday was one of those days that make the rest of the world jealous of us here in the Puget Sound area. Clear blue skies, Mt. Rainier sitting like a large scoop of vanilla ice cream on the Cascades, seagulls wheeling over the waters. I rode my bike around Pt. Defiance park for awhile. I watched osprey diving for fish, eagles riding the winds high overhead. I rode through the cool evergreen forests of Pt. Defiance, I parked and watched a tug pull a barge down the Narrows toward the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. I rode the winding roads alongside rose gardens and rhododendron gardens in full bloom, I whizzed past sunbathers working on their early tans.

And I thought, nobody could ever convince me there is a more beautiful place to live.