Your Daily Miracle: Vocation

Today felt like autumn, and so it is.  Officially.  At 6:45 this morning after I dropped Merry at Jazz Ensemble practice, I drove home through the rising mist.  I paused at a stop sign, absorbed in the view before me--the fog half-risen over a broad field, caught in the arms of a line of pine trees.  Wonderful.

At long last I have a few summer photos for you, of Mt. Rainier (surely one of the most beautiful places on earth).

We drove up to Paradise and rambled over paths among the wildflowers.

Yes, and sang snatches of "The Hills are Alive."  I remember saying to my sister-in-law, "What if you lived in a place as beautiful as this?  How would it change you?"

And here is a place beloved to me:

Crescent Lake, which was so warm during this hot summer that the kids could actually wade out into it.

As the sun set, we strolled to the beautiful, elegant historic lodge where we had fish and chips and a lovely Lake Crescent wine.

What makes a waterfall even better?  Tea, of course!

The photos below are of Rosario Point, an enchanted place near Deception Pass not far from Seattle.  The story of the Maiden of Deception Pass stirs something deep within me every time we visit.  For more photos of Deception Pass, go HERE .

In Salish legend, the Maiden of Deception Pass falls in love with the son of the god of the sea and leaves her family, weeping as she disappears into the water.  Yet she becomes so happy under the sea with her new love that every time she visits her family, she has become more like a sea creature--sea stars cling in her hair and barnacles stud her skin.  She feels so sad to be on land that her family lets her go completely--but she watches over them from under the ripples of the peaceful waters, and to this day the sea continues to yield its treasures, gifts of the Maiden.  Standing in this windswept, stunning place, you can believe that you see her hair, curling on the water like seaweed.

We sat and sipped tea and watch the sun set.  Glorious.

I am in between projects at the moment (a frustrating place to be), weary of a novel that I should be tackling whole-heartedly with my revisions scissors and distracted by thoughts of a new little book.  Perhaps I'll go with the new book.  If only I didn't have this twinge of guilt, like I'm abandoning one for the other, like I'm a fickle lover.

Whatever.  Books don't have feelings.  Right?  Right?