It was my first visit to Vancouver, BC. We checked into a nice hotel downtown in the late afternoon and had walked around the city that evening after dinner. It was a beautiful summer evening. I'd heard friends say how much they enjoyed the beauty of Vancouver.

The hotel room had a large window that went from floor to ceiling. The next morning the sun came up from the opposite side of the hotel and bathed the city in light. Rolling over in bed and looking out the window, I'd left the curtains open because we'd enjoyed the lights of the city the evening before I enjoyed the view of the city from 10 stories up. It was nice to sit in the desk chair in the room and just enjoy the view.

It took a moment to appreciate the work done here..the image on the horse captures the landscape in the background. It's beautiful country in New Mexico..an unusual painting in unusual terrain.

Then a plane came by...

Lake Union, a la Seattle's Lake Union, is an interesting place in the summer time. Cruising along in a boat, it's not uncommon to be passed by a float plane coming or going. To see a plane approaching for a landing from the distance and feel it's headed right for you, is an interesting experience.

Quiet and imposing, a loss for words

I wasn't quite ready for the monument. I had wondered how the site might be recognized and as we drove through Normandy towards the coast, there had been several indicators that we were approaching a special place. Periodically, we'd pass a cemetary in the open country side. Some of them were surrounded by low, brick walls. Walking through these smaller cemetaries, the markers bore the names of British or American soldiers.
Back in the car, we would drive further, passing villages and I kept wondering what it had been like on the day of the invasion, on the days following the invasion and the weeks afterward.
At Couleville, the American cemetary is an insprising site. Driving into the grounds, silence is all around, it felt like the spirits of the dead were watching over the entire area. On the beach with it's wide expanse stood the monument above . It's an imposing figure, not especially tall but words inscribed cause one to pause, listen to the waves and feel the sense of what took place there, those many years ago.

Hearing the beauty

It was a slightly overcast day, the temperature was comfortable, a light jacket kept the breeze away. The island had a sense of peace about it, just large enough that a car helped with travel but wasn't totally necessary.

Sitting on a bench by the field of lilac, if you shut your eyes it helped to hear the breeze blowing through the plants, the scent was in the air. Watching the lilac, the stems swayed with the breeze brushing against one another, like a light sound of a broom as mother would sweep the front porch in summer. It was a bit mesmerizing, watching the stems sway with the wind.

The quiet of sunset in the southwest. 

Simplicity, just hang them out the window, let mother nature do the drying and in France, go out for a leisurely lunch and a nice bottle of wine. You don't have to worry about getting them out of the dryer before they wrinkle, there isn't another wash load to push into the dryer. I'll get to that second load, tomorrow. 

Sometimes, you just put your chair in a good place, dab on a bit of suntan lotion, pop a brew and watch the world around you. 

Concentration is important in a number of endeavors...