I've been working so hard on "Sunday Dinner" the past couple of weeks that I haven't taken the time to really get out and enjoy the incredible weather we are having here on the coast. So today I decided to just do it. And, as I typically do, I tried to squeeze in too many errands and of course ran into glitches, so my artist date time got eaten up.

As I was driving along 101 looking out over Tillamook Bay I saw this flying saucer... I mean castle... I mean mountain... I mean... what is it? I pulled over and took a photo.

When I got home I was frustrated that my afternoon out produced only this one photo. As I was processing it I was thinking about how what it is depends on the perspective of the viewer. And then it hit me. The success of my artist date depends just as much on the perspective of the viewer.

If I had been determined to drive down 101 and look across the bay to see Cape Mears, I would have been sorely disappointed because a fog bank only allowed me to see the point of the mountain. Instead, I was delighted at the view the fog created. So maybe instead of being upset that my time wasn't spent the way I intended, I can be delighted that a handful errands can be crossed of my list, that I got to spend some time with people I love, I did an act of service, and I got to be out of the house breathing and seeing and listening and feeling an absolutely perfect day on the Oregon Coast.

Perspective...

It has been fluctuating between rain and clear sunny skies all day. One minute it's a downpour and the next the sky is such a bright blue and rain on the fresh spring leaves sparkles in the sunlight. I took a quick opportunity during a break in the rain to explore a little finger on the Tillamook Bay that's been taunting me since I moved here. I've seen fishermen and clammers down there, but it's often deserted. I didn't get far before the wind picked up and the rain threatened again. But it was fun to know I broke that barrier and introduced myself to a new corner of this heaven where I live. As I stood there, taking in the chill, the bite of the wind on my cheeks, the smell of the varied types of moisture, the sound of the waves and the rustle of the leaves I sensed a message coming through. I laugh at the dramatic changes in weather in the fall and call it the menopause season - hot flashes and cold chills. But I felt that rather than an impending sense of imminent cold and miserable weather, Mother Nature was tell me that it heralded the coming of hope in the form of fresh blossoms, budding leaves, new plants and baby animals, and the joys of spring. My whole being took it in and relished it. What a grateful moment in time!