anghara: (Default)
Went for a walk today with my trusty camera to record what sleepy old Whatcom Creek had become after the Great Floods of 2009... and it's a MONSTER.

Pics below cut as usual... )

The chaos is obvious, from just a selection of those photos. There are LARGE LOGS in the creek. Seriously. But what doesn't get across is the sheer speed and power of the current that is currently raging in the creek. And also the fact that you couldn't get anywhere near the water safely in places where you used to - the trail next to the creekside on THIS side of the water is either washed out or inundated and with the speed and power and ROAR of that angry water you don't want to be anywhere near a place where a loss of footing might pitch you INTO the thing. Whatcom Falls look like Niagara, and I could hear them from the upper parking lot in the park, which is QUITE a ways away from them. The place is a sense-confounding pounding of speed, power, noise, spray. And this is the day AFTER the rains have more or less stopped, the day AFTER they opened the last floodgate from the lake. Yesterday it must have been phenomenal.

Two big trees by Lake Whatcom's edge are almost in the water, undermined by the lake which is at its highest that I remember seeing it since we moved here close to six years ago.

It's a mess out there.

But the creek... is scary. A testament to the power of Ma Nature when she's riled.
anghara: (springtime)
Just dashed out to do an errand or two and drove past groves of young trees clad in that ethereal pale barely-budded-leaf spring green. I drove past an apple tree whose old, gnarled, twisted, crabby limbs had just been covered with a bountiful blessing of white blossoms, giving it back youth and beauty and joy. I drove past delicate blossoming cherries in the sunlight, like a line of dancers standing on tiptoe holding out their graceful arms to the sun. I drove past flowerbeds bursting with nodding daffodils which had bent under that unnatural snowfall we had the other day and had shaken off its memory like a bad dream and now stand upright and bright and yellow and cheerful. Everything is bursting out or budding out or just trembling on the brink of it - the magnificent magnolia on the corner of one of the intersections we drive through on our way to town is barely contained, its branches glimmering with just-about-to-open white flowers.

And we haven't even hit the rhododendron season yet.

It's all so beautiful and so full of life and hope and great expectations. It's enough for even a dyed-in-the-wool pessimist like me to break a heart over, for the sheer beauty of it, for the sound of birdsong in in the air and the sunlight which is warming now and is no longer that brittle sharp winter light which pierces like an icicle where it lands - this light flutters and folds around tender shoots, the beat of butterfly wings, the softness of new petals.

It's usually fall and winter that have my vote - I like it when the days get cooler and the light gets sharp and uncompromising and the winter days follow one another as though etched in frost and glass - but really, spring, out here where we live.. it's enough to convert me. At least right now, right at this instant, when I'm watching flowers open like children's dreams.

It's spring.

Small joys

Sep. 29th, 2007 05:44 pm
anghara: (autumn leaf)
We detoured past our favourite fresh-produce garden stand today - they announced that they were closing for the season on October 13, and we wanted a last snatch at a nice organic cabbage or their GIGANTIC onions (I swear, they look like someone blew them up with a bicycle pump).

Today they had a couple of trestle tables groaning under the weight of large pots containing variously coloured chrysanthemums in full bloom.

For $10 apiece.

That's what you'd pay for a bunch of flowers these days - a SMALL bunch of flowers - a flower arrangement similar to the pots that were displayed there would have set you back more like $30 or $40, and these things were rooted in potting soil, and could be expected to last a little bit longer than a generic flower arrangement anyway.

So we bought two of them. One, a gorgeous burnt-orange shade, is gracing our front porch; the other, a bright yellow, is currently glowing out on our back deck, despite the fact that the weather is cold and wet and gray and the evening is drawing in. The thing STILL looks like someone has just turned on a light out on the deck.

Small joys.

Happy autumn.
anghara: (snowy trees)
It's one of those insanely beautiful days outside. Bright sunshine. Frosty snow. Cold cold cold air. Sky that bright vivid winter blue against which the white-outlined dark green cedars stand out with the kind of clarity and light that makes me want to weep with joy and take another ten thousand photographs of the kind I've taken half a million of before, and these won't be that different, but they're TODAY's, this utterly beautiful day with the light of angels on it.

There's currently a bright blue Stellar's Jay sitting just outside my office window, in a patch of sunshine on a patch of pristine white snow. It's magic.

Snow!

Jan. 10th, 2007 10:06 am
anghara: (snowy trees)
Went out this morning to shake down the rhododendrons and the vulnerable trees - lost a few branches the last time it came down this thick, and didn't want a repeat. CCouldn't FIND the cedar sapling, hope it's okay, it's in God's hands.

The birds, as always when the white stuff comes, are at our door chirping pitifully - and we saw a squirrel doing a very entertaining session of snow burrowing out on the deck, much to the cat's utter fascination and our amusement (picture a mole-like trail moving rapidly under the snow, and then a small squirrel head popping out from underneath every so often presumably to figure our where the heck he is going...)

It's cool, and white, and lovely. It's winter.
anghara: (autumn leaf)
Just looking outside, and the maples and aspens are shedding fast - there was just a flurry of leaves that looked precisely like the snapshot of a golden blizzard.

LOVE this time of year. I do.
anghara: (autumn leaf)
Returning home today in the glow of late afternoon sunlight on trees that are orange and scarlet and gold.

The next sunny day I get, me and my trusty camera are going out on an expedition...

May 2009

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