At barely-any-cabs-left o’clock last Wednesday I flew home from a work trip to Calgary, and then Thursday was Mark’s birthday, and on Friday we left our home and sailed the sun washed pavement up north into Washington.
Saturday afternoon, the kind of dry heat that makes you red cheeks and sun stroked, but the second you stop in the shade you’re perfectly cool. Having hiked a very steep trail for a few hours in the morning, having passed through fields of lupine and Indian paintbrush and drunk from ice-fed streams, we walked into the town of Leavenworth while a lonesome accordion played. Stopping at an open air beer garden, we ordered ale and Field Roast.
Is there any better way to feel than a three sip buzz on an empty stomach on a sunny day with food on the way? Additionally, a breeze we could not feel from our perch on the deck blew clouds of cottonwood fluff across the sky. It was snow-globe gorgeous and we were perfectly dry-sweat tired and that’s when a kind of happiness of a higher order — not at all your average everyday joy — fell upon us as we sat there.
Happy birthday Mark!