Glorious Sunset Moonrise

The shoreline is quickly crowded with viewers rushing toward a dazzling sunset

Cameras snapping over and over as others sit quietly basking in the glow of red, orange, and yellow streaks across the sky

There is a holiness to the hush as the sun dips into the sea and as if on a pulley, the full harvest moon arises in sync with the sunset.

Without realizing, the crowd is being awed by the creator of all things —

light, darkness, seasons, change,

even the ability to appreciate the gift of nature’s art

All created by a living, loving, masterful artist.

He is the Lord God who has lifted the same moon over centuries.

He has pressed the same sun into the same ocean of millennia.

He has painted the same sky over and over for time infinitum.

He has turned the pages of the seasons repeatedly over generations.

And still his most beloved creation, you, me, the homeless, the wealthy, the weakest, the strongest, the worn down and the high and mighty, all stop to acknowledge the stunning beauty and majesty of a sunset. A moonrise.

Who ever said, “how boring” as the sun blazed brilliant colors across the sky?

Who ever didn’t gasp at the enormity of a harvest moon in all its glory?

Who says it’s all just a monotonous routine, the rising, the setting, the brilliance, the tides, the change of seasons, the ebb and flow of life?

The stunning beauty of it all should ignite a spirit of praise within us that leads to complete devotion to the most high God, to the most magnificent artist, to the creator of heaven and earth.

©Belindabotzong2018

Garden Fireworks

Garden fireworks ignited by radiant sunset beams

Bursting with vibrant arrays of red, pink, yellow, and orange

Garden candy sweetened with nectar for the honeybees to engorge their striped bellies, intoxicated

Dahlias delightful celebration of summer ending. Welcoming fall with flamboyance

©Belindabotzong2018

Welcome Back Autumn

The winds of change are blowing

Leaves tumble and twirl in delight

Autumn arrives with a wet kiss on summer’s cheek

Refreshing the earth, the air, my soul

Days darken sooner with a refreshing coolness

Night lingers longer with a crispness in the morning breeze

Welcome back Autumn!

©Belindabotzong2018

Sunrise

I sit and watch the river meander

Twisting and turning down the path of least resistance

Swirling past boulders to create a churning mosaic reflecting the sky

Maples with floppy yellow leaves release helicopter seeds swirling and spinning in the gentle mountain breezes

Dew drops sparkle, clutching the edges of the long, sharp needles of the dark drooping limbs of ponderosa pine

Pine cones dropping with a plunk to the dry grassland beneath

Startling mother Quail with her youngsters hiding in the bush and blue jays squawking opinions from above

Buttermilk clouds filter the stream of morning sunlight

Last sunrise of vacation

©Belindabotzong2018

I Saw Myself

I saw myself today

30 years ago a newlywed

In that cabin across the river

Where I sat for hours watching the currents sweep over the boulders

Time spent with my lover in solitude and adventure with dreams of the future and contented pleasure.

I saw myself today

20 years ago a mom of two hilarious children

Camped out on the floor in that cabin across the river

A family on vacation, swimming hole, and fishing poles

A walk to the gingerbread factory, the hat shop and the toy store ending with a German pretzel and dinner at the Baren Haus.

I saw myself today

In the present

Reflected in a store window

Shopping and thinking and exploring

Years of child-raising replaced by caring for my elderly mom

Picking wildflowers and pine cones and creating new things in my head

A time of respite and renewal, observing the changes that have taken place and those things that never change.

I saw myself today

20 years from now

Walking hand in hand with the same man I always loved

Coming to a light pole in the sidewalk with hands temporarily parting

Quickly rejoined to explore that same town we always have, getting bratwurst, walking to Blackbird Island, and talking about the years gone by

I saw myself today

30 years in the future

My white hair askew as a caregiver pushes me, donned in a royal purple bathrobe in a wheelchair down the Main Street

Past the horse and buggy, past the shops and restaurants

A pile of flowers and ornamental grasses on my lap gleaned from the passing displays and gardens

A smile on my face in memory of days gone by.

©Belindabotzong2018

Morning in Leavenworth

Bright face of sunshine rises above

Hues of pine, spruce, and fir against

Cerulean sky backdrop

Lazy, shallow, dark currents of river caress boulders and ripple over pebbles

Meandering toward the sea in no hurry to leave this place of rich beauty

Flocks of birds call out musical notes

Trills like flutes and squawks in deep baritone

Hawks swoop and soar like a maestro

Orchestrating another beautiful day in Leavenworth

©Belindabotzong2018

Lazy Summer Evening

Respite from the blistering heat of another summer day where everything moves slowly, even the sun as it lingers on the horizon before it melts into the edge of the sea.

High tide laps lazily against the boulders and Slate blue waves ripple in the sunset shimmer

The schooner Zodiac plies slowly along in the last moments of daylight

Framed by Lummi Island she is majestically poised for a perfect sunset

The breeze rewards her crew with perfectly filled sails as seagulls loop and dip along the shore [wpvideo TEhIfl5X ]

Speedboats are the only quick moving thing as they race for the harbor as a fishing boat moans and rumbles along the shore

Hazy thin layers of far away forest fire smoke hang over Orcas Island creating a mysterious mood over Mt. Constitution’s towers

And filters the sunset into an artistic filtered hue

Another beautiful, lazy summer evening on Bellingham Bay.

©Belindabotzong2018

Evoking Memories – Skagit Fishing

That certain chill in the air before sunrise

That smell that wafts on the breeze of early morning in mid-summer

Waking up at 4a.m. with that peculiar feeling, she unwinds from the sheets and slips on layers of warm clothes

That sound and smell of coffee percolating downstairs where a bowl of breakfast awaits

“Do you want dry cereal or wet” he asks and she misunderstands thinking cereal or mush. He’s thinking no milk or milk. She gets dry… too shy to correct him she eats the Cheerios sans milk.

She jumps out of the car at grandma’s house while her dad waits impatiently. She digs in the moist dirt to get a dozen night crawlers from the galvanized worm-filled tub.

She wipes her dirty hands on the dewy grass then on her jeans. Her cousin from across the street jumps in the back seat just as dad takes off

The mighty Skagit River is running high and green. They pull in to the steelhead club and she and cousin stand aside popping snowberries as her dad maneuvers backward down the muddy boat launch.

The fog hangs low over the early morning river and a big splash catches their attention as a silvery scaled salmon does his morning wake up routine

That moist heavy morning air fills their senses. They jump aboard and the two kids row in a push out into the current. Dad starts the engine and the smell of four stroke fuel fills her nostrils with that unique fragrance and her tummy pours forth the Cheerios. “ You chummin’” he asks?

They make their way upriver to dead mans slough. They load hooks with bait and cast the lines in to the water. Immediately dad gets a bite. The reel zips and the pole bends to near breaking as he pulls back the line and sets the three pronged hook into the jowls of a beautiful humpy. Dad hollers at the six year old boy and girl cousins to hold the oars steady to keep the boat from entering a swirling current wanting to pull them all to the tree-lined bank.

The fog lifts slowly as the sun rises over the shadow of Sauk mountain to reveal a cerulean sky. The kids struggle to keep the oars steady as dad reels in his catch. He brings the net under in a quick scoop. The slippery slimy silver-skinned beauty dances and flops around the boat bottom and the girl squeals as it lands in her feet. Dad takes out the hooked club and bounces it on the back of the fishes head until the struggle is no more. Just then the girl sees her pole dip and she jumps up quickly to set her worm covered hook, reels it in and gets a look at the creepy bullhead trophy. She tries to pull the hook from his lip but his spiny back cuts her tiny fingers.

Dad gives her some pliers and tells her to pull the hook with those but she struggles until he impatiently takes her line and cuts riggin’ and fish loose. He tells her to put on a fresh hook and bait as she tosses the prehistoric looking beast back in the water with a shiver.

She reaches over the edge of the boat to rinse her hands. Her life jacket makes free moving difficult.

They recast their lines and dig in to lunch while dad guts his catch with a quick slit to the belly and removes a skein of pink eggs, tossing the rest of the guts back into the river.

The children bite into their wonder bread bologna sandwiches as dad drops the anchor.

Later when the sun is nearly overhead dad starts the engine and gives the children a thrilling fast drive downriver to head home.

Tired and sun-drenched they have removed most layers and are in T-shirt’s and blue jeans. They stay in the boat while dad goes to get the truck and trailer. They ride in the boat covering the few blocks to home with the summer breeze ruffling their hair.

Ten years later the little girl hears the truck start up in that cool fall pre-dawn air. She rolls over for a few more hours of sleep before school while her dad heads down to another routine day of fishing the Skagit. He’s caught so many fish in this river over his 41 years. He launches alone from the steelhead club and winds his way up river, up as far as his childhood home of Hamilton. At some point he stood to pull in a big one. October promised King Salmon and he quickly got one on the line. He stood quickly to set the hook but hadn’t set anchor. He stumbled over the rope as he held the pole with all his might. This was a big ‘un. The boat started drifting along behind the monster pulling on the line. He stumbled again over the children’s life jackets and lost his balance. He tried desperately to hold the line but it snapped and he toppled out of the boat, hitting his head on the engine on the way into the deadly currents. He landed unconscious and was quickly sunk, unbreathing momentarily. He revived and quickly realized he was in trouble. He couldn’t swim and he never wore a life jacket. He struggled but was unable to reach the boat which was floating toward deadmans island. He lost the battle and succumbed to the glorious and beloved river.

Hours later an Indian man found the boat abandoned on shore and called the sheriff. Calls were made to the wife who in turn called the children at school. A vigil for the searchers lead to disappointment day after day.

21 days later a knock on the door at 337 Central Street. The little girl, now a teenager and senior in high school opened the door to find a man holding a soggy wallet. The mother comes to the door and endless days of sobbing commences. Guttural screams, moans and tears flow freely.

The children all huddle together in the little girls bed. A funeral. Thanksgiving. Little girl turns 17. All in a daze. A line in her story.

©Belindabotzong2018

My evening

The kayak club cleared the beach with gusto heading out to dinner with friends, home, or even a vacation in Montana was announced with glee. He has a cabin in the sawtooth mountains where he plans to hike and relax for the last weeks of summer break.

The dinner cruise droned by after a tour of the nearby islands and disembarked its satisfied passengers at the nearby ferry terminal, heading home with that feeling one gets after inhaling an enormous amount of fresh sea air. Hair blown askew, stiffened by salty breezes, they make their way hand in hand to their Subaru, satisfied with their choice for such a grand outdoor experience.

A lone woman sits on a boulder at the quiet end of the beach. Her bike handlebars askew as she left it parked on the goose-poop covered lawn. Her forehead draws together in a frown at the intrusion of another woman taking a seat on a nearby bench. Solitude is clearly desired as she works through and ponders her troubles. The bench seated woman feels the discomfort of invading another’s space and moves on to a quiet spot to watch seagulls and sailboats and write about her view, snapping a few photos.

Jets fly overhead for their final approach to the nearby airport with those returning from trips around the country or around the world. They will disembark with that left over stale feeling one gets from flying too far for too long and they will breathe deeply the cool August day air and say “home sweet home”.

A helicopter flies quickly south, meaning another crisis in some family as a loved one is rushed to Seattle for advanced care and the patient will disembark on a journey through healing and recovery. Or not.

A train rumbles past filled with passengers all looking forward to either a return home or an exciting adventure beyond the routine of home. The incessant warning of the engineer announces their passing.

Multiple sailboats glide in the evening breeze like the seagulls that swoop and soar as the sun sets slowly beyond them. Some are racing while others take their time to embrace the freedom of being on the rippled sea, inhaling that same fresh air that will later lead to a deep restorative sleep.

The woman on the bench is now alone and there is a deep peaceful lull in the activity. Waves lap lazily onto the shore bringing her treasures to find. Sticks and stones, shells and glass. The beauty and artistry of nature in the perfection of an evening at the bay surrounded by the San Juan islands, the Salish Sea, the harbor, the beach and the sky.

[wpvideo Z4n1Hwas ]

©Belindabotzong2018