Weekend Reflections: Mist Over Lake Padden

Evening Tide

A rocky outpost becomes an island at high tide at Larrabee State Park.

Leaves Aglow...

...in the evening light.

The Bellingham Rock

Okay, it's another two-picture day. I had to have a "before" picture and an "after" picture!

This is the Bellingham Rock, or Graffiti Rock, or the Painted Rock, or the I-5 Rock; whatever you want to call it, it's the unofficial bulletin board for those with something to say. As you can see from the first picture, it's often a declaration of love (Sorry, Alli + Travis! Hope your love lasts longer than your message did!) or at graduation time classes will paint their graduating classes, etc. When you're driving north on I-5 you see the rock shortly before entering Bellingham.

I thought it was about time Bellingham Daily Photo got a picture of this local icon-- and why not add our own message while we're at it? So my lovely sister helped me out and we had a great time. I like the first picture with me painting the rock because it gives you an idea of how big it is. I've driven by it many times, but had no idea how tall it was till I was standing in front of it.

Thank you, sis, for snapping pics!

The Eagles Rock

A pair of bald eagles claimed this rock as their own at Larrabee State Park. Not surprisingly, none of the seagulls were willing to question the eagles' claim.

and...

Happy Mother's Day

Skywatch Friday: Pirate Princess

The pirate princess
perches on her stone,
a rocky, precarious throne.
Her eyes survey all that's her own:
sun... sky... sea... shore...
She is four.
When you're four
everything is yours.

Click here for more skies.

Art Impromptu

A young man made an artful rock tower while we picnicked at Little Squalicum Beach the other day. He continued on, making towers down the shore. This one was my favorite.

So a String Walks into a Bar...

...and orders a drink. The bartender says "I'm sorry, we don't serve strings here." So the string walks out again. The next day he tries again, but the bartender says "I told you, we don't serve strings here." The third day, the string has an idea-- he tangles himself up and ruffles up his ends, goes back to the bar, and orders a drink. The bartender examines him suspiciously. "Are you a string?" He asks. "No," the string replied. "I'm a frayed knot."

Now you've heard your bad joke for the day.