East of the Mountains  You hear that expression a lot living here in Seattle. East of the mountains is where we go for  sunny warm weather in the summer, apples in the fall, skiing in the winter, and gorgeous wildflowers in the spring. Last Saturday, Rick and I drove through rain, over to Pine Hills, east of the mountains, where rain gave way to mist, and mist gave way to dramatic clouds and bursts of sunshine. There, we spent the day with our friends and fellow yogis, Ginger and Woody.  We did a five-mile walk on their pine-wooded property and had a magical visit.

wildflowers and green meadows

pine trees and pine cones

an old abandoned cabin about to be restored

groundskeeper-jack-of-many-trades Shane welcoming us to have a look around

the socked-in rainfall turned to face-moisturizing misty drops

tell me more about how you met Patty, I ask Ginger. what will you miss most about her, I ask.

i imagine the bright yellow balsam wildflowers and deep blue camas flowers will smile as the Wednesday Walkers approach with the ashen treasure in their hands

ashes of a dear friend about to be strewn in the alpine-forested meadow, ashes among the late spring wildflowers, memories of Patty carried by the wind

the rainbow I couldn’t find as the misty drops fell and the sun started to make its appearance

the squinty-eyed foursome almost ready for the bright sun

late spring in Pine Hills, a day well spent

The photos below capture some of the imagery I mention in my free writing above: