The Olympic Peninsula

A little into my world.

Every three months, I head up to the Olympic Peninsula for work. Summer is my favorite time to go - it's light out on both the drive over as well as the drive home. It's sunshiney, and I always stop at Lake Crescent between Port Angeles and Forks. This shot was from this summer, when this little French girl (who spoke no English) ran down to feed the ducks, and then got spooked when they started swimming away. Imagine that.

Dad doesn't usually come with me anymore, but when he does, it's always an adventure. Like when you get stopped half a dozen times for construction traffic, and it's as if the construction peeps know just when Dad is coming around the corner to stop him. :) And stop him, they do.

Some of our best talks have come on the three hours back home from Forks. They usually start with me falling asleep, Dad getting annoyed, and slowly turning the radio up to the top volume until I can't sleep anymore. I think he gets a great joy from this, especially since I'm a little crabby when he wakes me up.

But then we talk. He tells me of all the things I should or shouldn't be doing with my life, and you know what? The more we do this trip together (it's six years now that we've been heading up there) the more I value his advice. It makes me laugh when I think back of how I used to argue with him that I knew better, no matter what. I was younger, sharper, more "in tune" with today. But he blew that off (and rightfully so), because he's older, wiser, and well, he's my dad. He loves me.

And you know what, Papa? I love you too.