The colours and temperature were more typical of this time of year in this little corner of the world.
What can I say...the world was grey...
but not without a certain cold beauty, I thought.
Maybe I'll just post the view
from my bedroom window every day.
Maybe I'll just post the view
from my bedroom window every day.
Wonderful sequence, it made me think of a big wave of mist coming in almost as fast as a wave of water - wow!
ReplyDeleteFabulous. Who knew that gray could be so pretty?
ReplyDeleteThe houses in the neighborhood are sweet, with their chalet-style roofs. Do they get much snow?
Such a beautiful sight to awaken to. Thanks for letting sneak a peek through your bedroom window.
ReplyDeletelouciao, I would love to get a copy of this picture to put on my wall! Could you send me the file so I could get it developed. It's so beautiful. The last one is my favourite.
ReplyDeleteJenny W.,
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness, you shouldn't mention a "wave of water" in these parts. BC is in a major earthquake/tsunami zone! But I'm glad you like the pictures.
jann,
ReplyDeleteIf you live in the Pacific Northwest you have to learn to love grey in all its tonalities. It's kind of like the Innuit with their hundred words for snow.
Thankfully not much snow in these parts; a few days here and there throughout the winter but nothing to last. The white stuff mostly stays on the mountains, where it belongs.
Hilary,
ReplyDeleteI'm glad we were looking out throught the window rather than peeking in through it. That would be creepy...and require a very tall ladder.
Lucia,
ReplyDeleteThank you for asking! You can e-mail me at
lynlouciao@rogers.com
wow !
ReplyDeleteplease have a wonderful new week ahead.
Grey is good, very moody and secretive! Love those photos, hope you had a mug of Kiwi tea to start the day as well xx
ReplyDeleteRobert,
ReplyDeleteWeek looks promising, though maybe a touch of white added to the grey in the form of snow, hopefully just on top of the mountains.
I wish you smooth sailing into a new week.
Saj,
ReplyDeleteGrey is lovely, though I don't care for it much as a hair colour on my own head. Alas, I left the Kiwi tea on the other coast but I'll ask Pierre to bring it with him when he comes out to join me here in a week's time. That and my cozy, hand-knit/felted slippers. What was I thinking when I packed my bags? I needs me comforts.
Louciao, this gray mist is exactly what embodies the winter weather. Where I live, everything is gray now. It's quite depressing at times. Thank goodness for the occasional golden glow we sometimes get a peek of and which you so masterfully depicted in your last post! The photos, nonetheless, are haunting and lovely! :)
ReplyDeleteBella,
ReplyDeleteThe greys haven't really set in here as yet and I am grateful for each day of cold sunshine that is still beaming my way.
Lovely clouds, mists, fogs, vapors, wraiths, but hmmm, couldn't you perhaps photoshop in a beautiful old schooner or some such to replace that squat, black, industrially poisonous looking tramp freighter ? What it must have been to see the early explorers in their sailing ships coming up those channels, with sails "as white as heroin, white like weathered bones", though their arrival bode no well for the indiginous peoples. The land of the dream bears, the tall totems, the leaping salmon, spouting whales... a glimpse of heaven...
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmbbaNFONMY
Or maybe Smoke On the Water would have been appropriate ?
oooooopppps, little fast fat fingered typo there, of course you knew I meant "indigenous", right ? right ... for some reason had "vertiginous" in mind... as in, the loss and subjugation of indigenous cultures gives us a vertiginous glimpse back into history at the heartbreaking horrors of the recent past...
ReplyDeleteOwen,
ReplyDeleteThere were indeed ships sailing up the inlet in the not too distant past to take on lumber from the local mill here. Nowadays, in addition to the freighters that "park" out in the drink there, we see sailboats in the summer, yachts in all seasons, and at this time of year, all sizes of boats decked out with Christmas lights sailing past in the inky darkness. The park I so love to walk through is, I suppose, one of those "stolen lands" as it used to be a gathering place for various tribes who would journey to the area to visit with the local Tsleil-Waututh nation ("people of the inlet"). The park has been renamed Whey-ah-Whichen (Facing the Wind) to honour its native history. Now it is families from all over the world that gather here in the summer for picnics, so the tradition continues. And, yes, I did look askance at "indiginous" but your explanation was well worth waiting for. As was your visit.