On my way home from visiting my friend Ginger, I took this beautiful, scenic road. I couldn't help but stop and take a few pictures.
It was a beautiful Spring day and the buttercups were blooming in the fields.
When I come around the corner and there is Mt. Rainier in front of me, it still takes my breath away after all these years.
I wonder if these cows know how lucky they are?
This little farm looks out on that magnificent view.
So does this one.
The fields are so green this time of year and the trees are all leafed out.
I want to run through this field.
But I know that would probably land me in some deep *@#! so I'm content to just admire.
Those two tall Douglas Fir trees are probably over 200 years old.
It's such a nice drive I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road.
This lovely farm has a newer home with many flowering trees and shrubs.
We have a perfect climate for Rhododendron and Azalea in beautiful, vibrant colors and every farmhouse has their own collection.
This hillside farm had a colorful collection of beehives set in a field of clover.
Even the wetlands are showing off their springtime finest.
Here is a little colony of Yellow Flag Iris.
Across the country lane, this little pond hosts some contented Mallards feeding in the shallows.
A small orchard is being kept bug free by a flock of happy chickens.
And what country drive would be complete without an old truck sighting?
The summer I was 14, my Dad drove me to my Aunt's house to babysit every morning in an old restored truck like this.
It wouldn't go faster than 35 mph, so we took the back roads through the farms and forests of rural Massachusetts.
He only drove it in the summertime, but he loved that old truck.
It reminded him of his childhood, growing up on a farm.
And I loved spending those precious summer mornings with him, both of us on our way to early morning jobs, breathing in the fresh morning air and enjoying the fields and farms full of new-born animals and the occasional wildlife sightings.
One morning we saw a whole family of silver fox cross the road in front of us.
He told me stories of his childhood on the farm during those summer mornings.
Old trucks always bring back those wonderful memories for me.
I take a side street and this is what I find. A tiny log cabin hidden among the trees.
And an old sway back barn, unsteadily standing tall.
But it is getting late in the afternoon and I must be heading for home.
So I turn my own little truck around (I am my Father's daughter!) and head back towards my foothills home.
If you look really, really hard you can see it. (Just kidding).
If you look past the cow and then move a little bit to the left, in the first, faint line of blue hills, that is where you will find me.
I hope you enjoyed coming along on my little journey.
I wish you clear blue skies and buttercups, too!
