The 'now-there-now-gone' Mount Rainier
One last look before the infamous Seattle rains swallow it forever, and the pestering clouds enshroud its moodiness in their puffy whiteness.
Before grey and black come to mean much more than just colours.
Before the year creeps away unnoticed on its soft snowy paws.
Before a new set of temptations and resolutions knock at the door.
Before it is time for the usual set of goodbyes, yet again.
Mt Rainier is the favourite mountain of my imagination. I've never seen it, but feel acquainted with it most strongly through the poems of Denise Levertov.
ReplyDeleteHey, you commented on my blog at exactly the same moment as I commented on yours! Yet another blog-synchronicity moment!
ReplyDeleteNice... I like it.
ReplyDeletehttp://rajnishonline.blogspot.com/
moody mountain from a not so moody girl...nice one...
ReplyDeleteI love this kind of landscape ! Nice picture !
ReplyDeleteThe Solitary Walker, yes it was a bit of a technical telepathy going on there!
ReplyDeleteI am so glad to know that Mount Rainier is so dear to you too. You must visit the national park sometime in late summer, when Rainier is at its majestic best and its foot trails are thronged with wildflowers.
Regarding Levertov's poems, it's such a shame that I'm not acquainted with her work. Despite being a lover of literature and making a living out of it. Utterly shameful!
Rajnish, thank you for dropping by!
Anonymous, thanks! But I do get severe bouts of mood swings now and then. So beware!
Celine, thank you dear.
I think I just missed your visit to my blog. We can see Mt Rainier from the hills on a certain sort of day. We see Mt Baker more often, and it is a bit of a thrill to see Ranier.
ReplyDeleteThe Olympic Peninsula is beautiful, and we had a wonderful weekend at Ilwaco in the summer of '10. Did you enjoy Chesil Beach?
Pondside, true, Rainier makes me very happy too, almost child-like, every time we spot it from its cloudy stupor.
ReplyDeleteRegarding 'The Chesil Beach', I found it very haunting and somewhat disturbing, the way the majority of McEwan narratives go. But for some reason, may be due to the lingering helplessness between the couple, it didn't quite speak to me. That said, it certainly didn't hamper my blossoming McEwan-ism! :-) How did you find it?