I was in Ohio last week, visiting my mother, and, when I returned to the Pacific Northwest, it was as if the forests and big trees went out of their way to welcome me back home with stunning shows of beauty and photographic opportunity.
"Remember us?" the trees whispered, kind of like an old girlfriend temptress. "We missed you. Did you miss us?" The trees did not even pretend to be shy.
One day the dog and I were out for our early-morning stroll. The sun was rising and cast beams of yellow light through a thin veil of fog in the trees. The scene practically shouted "photograph me!"
Another day I took some visiting friends for a hike on a trail in the nearby Olympic National Forest. Rhododendrons were blooming, adding striking splashes of pink in an otherwise green-green-green scene.
My knees buckled and my old girlfriend smiled, knowing I was a goner for her. I'd buy her dinner, take her dancing, anything she wanted. The old flame was rekindled, and, even if I had wanted to, it was useless to resist.
