To the light

Today it was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous on my way to Mount Vernon where I was to attend an Art opening. Ahead of me were the hills behind Mt Vernon, crowned with all shades of purple, blues, greys and whites, huge cloud formations looking like they were trying hard to fake the winter's last show. But the Light was there, obliquely peering through, staging a magnificent light gently stroking the fields. The accumulated moisture of the last few days, married to the streaks of golden light, produced this strangest, exhilarating shower of golden nuggets.
Coming back from the Art opening this evening I took my favorite way back, the slow way, through Skagit valley's country roads. No yahoo in a hurry to bug you, plenty of potholes to slow you down,Oh I LOVE those potholes on Calhoun! No radio hammering bad news, a good CD on,and nothing but the horizon and the tulip fields, now whacked off, leaving behind only the bulbs leaves,what a beautiful texture of a bluish green, and iris fields soon to bloom - I can't wait to see those and pastel them - and the immensity of the farmland, only interrupted here and there by what I call "the islands": The sea must have been here some time, it's obvious, geology coming up to the surface. For who knows how to look, there for you is the history of this valley. I sometimes fancy those fields were the sea, and those islands would look down at orcas - or their ancestors - swimming down below. No wonder farmers and fishermen are so associated with this valley.
Each time I drive through, coming back from work, I think of how fortunate I am to live here, and of how glad I am I left my used-to-be hometown of Paris...