Our flight was badly delayed on Friday, and we ended up spending almost eight hours at Sea-Tac airport. By the time we took off, it was getting to be twilight. Time for one last picture by way of goodbye.
From our room in the Olympic, I can see up and down Seneca Street. We stay in the same room every time we come to Seattle, so I’m getting to know the views. I’ve decided that I like the austere skyscraper I can see up the street. It’s the Crowne Plaza Hotel, I discovered later. More
Seattle at night, seen from a cab we took to my mother-in-law’s.
I was looking through my iPhoto albums this morning for inspiration and realized that on this day a couple of years ago I was traveling through the Cascade Mountains by train. The view out the window was absorbing, because, once beyond the bounds of a familiar region, everything was subtly different: the fields, the land, the towns, the buildings. Even this parking lot is different in subtle ways from what you would see in the Midwest. The sun-bleached patterns and shadows on the corrugated sides of the building are like something out of a painting by Hockney. And check out that red curb.
I wish I could have gotten a better picture of this pear house, which has an air of pride and mystery. I like the suggestion of battlements along the roof-line. If you tried to storm it, would you be pelted with a certain fruit?
My sister-in-law, a Seattleite who skis, spends a lot of time in towns like these. The train ran through places like Leavenworth and Wenatchee, open mountain towns folded, accordion-like, into the slopes.
I loved looking at the fruit orchards . . .
and the old farmsteads nestled up against the steep rise of evergreens.