A street goes back in time...

Our last afternoon in Dublin last June, I took a walk through the Georgian neighborhood where we were staying, to photograph the doors. I'm an architect's daughter, what can I say! There's one street near our hotel that's lined with colorful doors set into fan-lighted frames, and I couldn't leave town without another look.

I walked up the street, walking back and forth to look at the doors, and spotted this old car in a handicapped spot.

But when I saw the harnessed horse standing next to a horse box, I got really interested. Halfway up the block, there was a lot of activity. Trucks parked with piles of gear, and a lot of people standing around, and I figured it out: there's a film crew here.

I abandoned the doors for a minute, and walked up to see what was going on. The filming was set up in an alley, and I really couldn't see much. A resident walked up just then, and we chatted while we watched. There were others besides me walking around with cameras, but the crew didn't seem to mind. There's an antique delivery wagon just outside the alley, so I figure they're filming a period movie or show. I was patient and content to wait around. Finally the crew called for the horse, the handlers hitched him up to the wagon, and I got the photos I was wishing for.

And all those gorgeous doors? Watch for another post soon.

Escape artist...

After vacationing in Ireland, then a road trip, then family arriving from Australia, followed by a month-long road trip to Colorado (and Idaho, Utah, Nevada, and Oregon), then the return of the Aussies, then cat sitting the adorable Murphy... (whew!)... we've started the hunt for a kitten or two.

It's been a bit over six months since we lost our last cat, James. She was an American Shorthair, with the swirl pattern on her coat, but was much bigger boned. So I think she probably had some Maine Coon in her; they have the same patterned coat.

But this wee girl is pretty cute. She and her siblings were in an old stable block on a farm in Ireland. Escape artist? She'd fit right in at our house!

It must have been the Guinness...

This rainy day turned out to be perfect for getting together with friends for brunch. It's not something we do often; brunch can be deadly... it's all too easy to eat too much. We've all been here before, and know the best approach: go straight to the seafood bar. Oysters, crab, prawns, grilled steelhead, lox and bagels, steamed mussels and clams, grilled salmon, smoked salmon Benedict. Yum. My mouth was watering yesterday, just thinking about it!  Our friend moaned after his third trip through, that he couldn't have eaten that much... it must have been the Guinness that filled him up.

I hoped the weather would be better today, so we could go for a walk on the beach. Alas, it rained cats and dogs all morning. So instead we grabbed a cache, bought some fish, then went to a park I know. I've been wanting to photograph a gorgeous row of trees turning color against a backdrop of green fields, and the late afternoon light was perfect. This park is one of the few places I know where the landscape is unspoiled by power lines and roads and structures. Most of it is old farmland and rolling pastures, overgrown for decades before being acquired for an open space park. The acreage has been cleared gradually; mowing the weeds and brambles, but leaving all the native trees intact. The result has been beautiful.

Landscapes...

Earth and sky, woods and fields, 
lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, 
are excellent schoolmasters, 
and teach some of us more 
than we can ever learn from books.  
John Lubbock

Where the Rockies meet the plains, north of Waterton Lakes National Park

It's what I miss... crave... the most, living on the outskirts of a big city. Those sweeping landscapes you see when you get out and away, over the mountains. Those places where you can look back and see the huge sky, the towering peaks. Wave after wave of dark evergreens flowing down the river valleys toward open grassland, where the wild things graze.

Looking toward the Anthony Lakes Wilderness, from OR-7

It's why I keep going out on the road, in search of those vistas that fill me up like a glass that's full to overflowing, spilling over the rim. Filling me with wonder and delight, with absolute joy. With peace.

Colorado aspens, between Ridgway and Telluride

I've been reading a lot of landscape photography blogs lately, getting inspiration from amazing photographers like John Clement and Jason Savage and Michael Frye, among others.

Heading into winter, when access to my favorite landscapes will be buried in snow, it's a time to dream about other back roads, other places. A time to plan. Next year, a workshop with one of these photographers is definitely on my bucket list.

Grey, with a chance of reading...

Another simple day, enjoying being at home after an autumn on the road. I'm still editing photos from that trip; there are so many more photographs I want to share. Today is grey and gloomy, not raining, but no break in the clouds in sight. A good day to finish Jeffrey Deaver's Roadside Crosses. And take notes from the stack of cabin and cottage books I'm reading, hoping to find the perfect inspiration for making our 1960s cabin more rustic (just as soon as we finish that bathroom).

What else was notable about today? New driving glasses, day 84 of a geocaching streak, and my favorite cabbage and Andouille sausage stir-fry for dinner.

I should be thinking about Christmas. But that stack of books is calling my name.

Misty day...

It's warmed up, but the rain is back with a vengeance. DW is glad he cleaned gutters yesterday! I puttered much of the morning, then snuggled with Murphy (who has taken up residence between us on the sofa), and browsed some of my favorite landscape photography blogs.

We're going to a release party at DeLille Cellars tonight, and took the back roads. On the way we made a stop at Snoqualmie Falls, to see what all this rain has done to the flow of water. It was pretty spectacular,. but the mist blowing in our faces made the falls hard to see. I brought the Nikon, but it was so wet at the overlook, I kept it safely in my bag and used my cell phone instead.

Growing up here, I must have visited the falls hundreds of times, but I never get tired of it. One of these next nice days, before winter really arrives, I'd like to come back and hike to the base of the falls. That's something I've never done.

When we drove home this evening, there was mist in all the low, wet places... just like at the falls. Beautiful, and just a bit spooky.

Let the light shine through...

Some would crop the leaf cluster at the top of the frame. But for me, 

it hints at much more color in this beautiful maple tree, so I kept it.

This morning it was 33 degrees, with frost in the pasture that slopes down to the pond. There's plenty of firewood to keep the farmhouse warm, and a cat on the bed. But I got up anyway. Eight ducks have moved onto the pond, swollen to normal size after days and days of rain. I'm loving the earlier sunrise... more daylight for this morning person. The rising sunlight through our neighbor's maples makes them look like stained glass, green and gold and red against our dark green cedar trees.

A year of no fishing...

I really thought this would be the year for fly fishing. We had plans, we really did. We got out for a guided float on the Yakima River the end of April, and talked about going back to the South Fork Lodge, and floating the canyon of the south fork of the Snake River again. Plans to drop a line into more creeks and rivers in SE Idaho. Plans to fish again in western Colorado, when we visited family in September.

And near home, we planned to fish the middle fork of the Snoqualmie River. Unfortunately for me, this is the year the forest service decided to replace bridges and reroute the road, and it was closed to all access most of the year.

This fall, we traveled through the West again, on a four-week road trip. And took our fly fishing gear. At each stop we hauled our rods and fishing packs into our motel room, and packed them back in the truck each morning. Each day, I'd make notes of the streams and rivers we saw that would be fun to fish. We drove up dirt roads and looked for good river access points. All that beautiful water in Idaho, Colorado, Nevada, Oregon... we never saw a single person fly fishing. We chalked it up to the opening of hunting season.

And in 5,600 miles... we never wet a line.

A cat in the house...

We're cat sitting for friends who are cruising in Italy. Murphy is a big (is there any other kind?) Maine Coon tabby.

The first day, he hid under the basement stairs. And, on the second day.

The third day, I spent the morning reading and writing in the downstairs family room, to keep him company. He wandered through a couple of times and said hello, but hissed if I touched him.

The fourth day, I spent most of the day sitting with him. It was raining, and I had a raging headache, so the peace and quiet of the basement suited me just fine. He spent more time exploring today; he likes sitting on the windowsill to watch the birds.

The fifth day, he came upstairs all by himself, but slept most of the day on my chair in the family room. He's laying low while there are kids in the house.

On Halloween, I carried Murphy upstairs three times to explore. On this rainy and chilly day, we built a fire in the woodstove and put his basket in front of the hearth, and that was all he needed to feel completely at home. That night, he slept on our bed.

We get to have him for three weeks, and then we really need to find a new kitten of our own. The house needs a cat.

Rainy days...

So, here we are... the first day of the eleventh month. Just three weeks from Thanksgiving. The first snow in the pass is expected on Tuesday. And we're getting an inch of rain (or more) every day, with no end in sight. This is usually how fall colors ends here in the Pacific Northwest... with a storm. Between hard rain and high winds, there won't be much left on the trees soon.

The hydrangea blooms have turned from rich blue to bright pink, and soon they'll turn dry and fall. I think the blooms at this last stage are beautiful.

We ventured out (briefly) in the monsoon raining down on our little town. We dropped our ballots, grabbed a quick lightskirt cache, and headed home again.

Home to a cozy farmhouse with a fire in the woodstove, and a cat on the sofa, purring.