…and the sky was all violet.
“Anyone who knew her well could tell she was thinking hard, because her long hair was tied up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes. She had a real knack for inventing and building strange devices, so her brain was often filled with images of pulleys, levers, and gears, and she never wanted to be distracted by something as trivial as her hair.”
- Lemony Snicket
girl contemplating birds flying over the Columbia River from Washington side
We were forty-five minutes from home after a long day of travel and valorous feats, and I saw a road that looked interesting, so I recklessly pulled over (after using my turn signal, which I habitually use) and began the traverse toward the sky-road to investigate;
I conversed with a motorcyclist (who was not on his motorcycle) as we dialogued about the territory, and learned about a secret tent city of berry pickers, and he gifted me some recommendations of explorations to embark upon - some of which I entered into my secret notebook (in: right back pocket) to remind for later, and one of which we took immediately (which was to go RIGHT at the fork of the road we were upon).
We did so, and stumbled upon a place that should certainly cause (at minimum) a steep intake of breath and at most partial and temporary paralysis at the eighth wonder. I wondered what the tree must have been like; magnificent and towering, and possibly slowly bending its knee toward the river. I also envisioned a giant swing, or zip line, originating from this once powerful tree, that would plunge its riders (me) at the end into the Columbia, and I smiled at both the daringness of this idea, and how much alike I am like my dad sometimes.
Then we left and went home, after a few more stops. If you're wondering why I'm late to things sometimes, it might be (probably is) because I stop a great deal.
Happy days, universe.
*pronouns substituted for Violet's name