This picture was taken yesterday as I went with a friend close up to Mt. Baker, although we took the lazy way and drove up. It was could and drizzly, and you could see your breath up around five thousand feet, but with both agreed that the best way to see the lush woods of the Cascades was in the rain. Somehow, when it is dry and sunny, the forest seems stressed and dormant. When it's raining, however, it feel fresh and alive.
At any rate, we spent much more time in the mountains that we'd ever anticipated, and by the time I made it home, it was well past dark.
Upon returning home last night, I came across a white feather and took it as a symbol of clarity entering my life. Then I realized that I have a white chicken, and it wasn't really anything that miraculous.
But today is another Monday. I wish I could be more introspective, but the wear and tear of working with start-up companies is taking its toll on my physical state (although my mental acuity appears unfettered) and I need a good rest. I think that it may be this weekend when I leave my electronics behind and head to the San Juans.