Just before sunset the mountains lose definition and become silhouettes against a darkening sky.
What the horse probably said
“Looking at me? Cool! Got carrots? Apples?”
“Hmmph!” or horse equivalent of something otherwise censored.
Oh…(more) deer
We’ve seen a lot of deer lately. These two were hanging so close and were so similar in size I wondered if they were siblings.
They moved in unison, too.
Beach combing
I wonder how much longer we’ll be able to do this, wander down a long, deserted beach and idly search for a perfect shell or polished stone or piece of glass. If the weather this past weekend is any indication, summer’s called it quits here.
Lyre River
As we drove west from Joyce last weekend we followed a sign off Highway 112 to the Lyre River Campground. It’s a tiny spot; there probably are no more than six campsites. But it’s a lovely wooded and remote location on the river.
The Lyre River originates to the south at Lake Crescent and is just slightly more than five miles in length. It empties into the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the north.
Welcome to Joyce
A westerly drive last Sunday took us through the small town of Joyce. I don’t know much about Joyce except that it has a summer blackberry festival that sounds like pie lover’s heaven. As we drove into town we first noticed the sign above.
Then we came to Itsa Creek.
Finally, we passed Uptha Creek.
The creek signs have layers of paint on closer inspection. I’m not sure who put them there but they brightened my day.
Country bus stop
Waiting for the bus? Who needs a plastic-sided enclosure covered with advertisements and graffiti? Or one of those grimy benches covered with who knows what?
Hollow out a nearby tree and you’re good to go.