To preface this, I am not wandering far these days since although my official intense recovery time is over from my second surgery this year, the doctor told me that I could expect another six months of slow-going until I get to full recovery. I'm only walking up to 2 miles on a "big" day so the walks aren't super long or strenuous. These images are from Penrose State Park (Washington - on the Peninsula):
I love the doorway appeal of the branches arching over the end of the trail to the sea.
I didn't actually hike the trail the first time I went, but I did the second time. Either way, I find trails leading off into the woods a great inspiration for stories.
Here's another view of those arching tree branches, but from farther back.
I thought this shell looked like a hand in skeletal form. My daughter thought it looked like a skull. What do you think it looks like?
The reflection ...
The crane kept teasing me and I tried to get a closer image by zooming in my phone camera - which is far from a great camera.
Looking down fencelines is interesting. I feel like there's a story in these lines that lead into a horizon. Plus, fencelines always seem to have some kind of story behind them. I wondered why this one was even there other than for decorative purposes because the park extends beyond it on both sides. I guess it is near the walking trail that leads to the shore and beyond it is a bit of shoreline with a 4-5 foot drop off to the shoreline. Maybe it's for decorative safety?
The one bit of "hike" I did on my first walk. This literally ended just five feet further around the bend.
What do you think is around the bend?
I wanted to capture the young Pacific Madrone tree (with reddish bark) also called a Madrona tree by many in the area. The Pacific Madrone is declining so it's always nice to see a young one. (We have an older one in our yard.)
The birds had breakfast before I arrived. Many clam shells littered the gravel beach.
There is something about the edge where the land meets the sea that has always struck a chord in my imagination.
Have you wandered lately? Have you ever wandered with intent?
Get any story ideas from these images?
I admit, my main intent was to get outside, get fresh air, and see a different place.
I seem to need a jolt of fresh air to find creative inspiration.
Plus, in places like Penrose State Park, I can see the amazing wonder of God's creation and just feel blessed to be able to experience the outdoors. (And, it was easy - near where I was that day and with a parking lot near the shoreline. I was only there for forty minutes and it felt like my whole day was filled with beauty.)
And, I have a late link to an interview at #Carolinareads last week - somehow, I missed it even with it on my calendar so I feel like I have egg on my face. If you could stop by and give Terri some love, or go check out my post a week late, that would be awesome. Plus, she has an ongoing interview feature that I highly recommend checking out!
Tyrean reads .... #CarolinaReads hosted by Terri A. Wilson
And - I hope you all had a Blessed Memorial Day! Here's a tiny image-poem I wrote on that subject last year:
The wind rolls out our flag’s colors
red lines dripping down
Whenever I think of Memorial Day, I hear flags snapping in the wind and see rain clouds parted by sun because for many Memorial Days I visited my Grandpa's grave in the windy little town where I grew up. We didn't celebrate it "right" according to all the experts - my Grandpa was technically a veteran who joined the US Army to gain American citezenship. He became a sargeant in the calvary and then a tank mechanic during WWII. He lived a full life and did not die serving during war-time, but I (unlike those who are sticklers for the rules of all things) have always taken time to remember him and all those who have served on Memorial Day, even though I know it's meant only for those who have died overseas during active service. I think it's sad that legalists have decided to make Memorial Day unaccessible for all others. I remember when we used to meet at the cemetary for a service that included everyone - all the graves (even non-military ones) were covered in flowers - and the military service members didn't seem to mind that. What's happened that to make us so legalistic in all things?