It’s one of those smoky-voiced days in the Pacific Northwest. One of those days when the moss glows in the gloom. One of those days when the azalea surprises you with a single, blinding bloom.
Looking for me?
thesorrygardener[at]gmail[dot]com
It’s one of those smoky-voiced days in the Pacific Northwest. One of those days when the moss glows in the gloom. One of those days when the azalea surprises you with a single, blinding bloom.
Looking for me?
thesorrygardener[at]gmail[dot]com
“…smoky-voiced days…”, “…moss glows in the gloom…” ~ absolutely perfect descriptions! I grew up 20 miles W of Portland in Forest Grove and that’s exactly the way I remember it. See ~ you ARE a poetic photographer, and I’m green with envy (but in a very good way)!
I’m glad I got it right in your mind’s eye. But I may have to go back and add some profanity to those lines in late winter when I’m fed up with it.
I agree with the need for profanity in late winter @###@#!! After enduring several months of snow & ice and feeling like spring will never arrive again here in the W central mts. of Idaho, I’m ready to move back to Whidbey Island where I lived for several years in the ’70′s. At least there’s a growing season there…
What a beautiful description and beautiful pictures. You made my day. Winter isn’t here yet but I can look forward to spring.
I thought you might need a bloom today, Ma Bell.