Of late, a time or two, or three, I will come upon something whilst looking for something, a photo, usually, which renders me melancholy upon seeing that which I have come upon.
Last night I was looking for photos of Mount Rainier. I knew I should have plenty, including many from my most recent up-close visit to Washington's biggest volcano, back in August of 2008.
Some time back I realized that the archived photos I have on this computer are not actually stored on this computer, but are in the Cloud, stored via Microsoft OneDrive. Hence why I have trouble, sometimes, finding a photo I know I should be able to find.
Well, when I got the computer I am currently using, a few years back, I remember being quite impressed that once I logged into my Microsoft account my computer was mostly restored to what was on the previous computer. Things like saved bookmarks in the browser. Photos. Saved text in Notepad. And more.
I do not remember when it was I realized much of what I thought was on my computer, was actually in what is known as the Cloud.
So, last night, for some reason, it occurred to me to plug in a USB drive I'd long ago copied files on to. I remember doing that because I wanted to make sure I had some things, like the install files for Image Composer.
Well.
On the USB drive there is a folder called photos. And in that folder are the photos that are now in the Cloud. Along with photos which are not in the Cloud, which I had feared to be lost, like the Mount Rainier photos. Or the photos of the first time I met my great grand nephew, Spencer Jack, back in August of 2008.
Some of the photos you see in this blog post are from that day, way back then, when a large group of my relatives assembled at Bay View State Park, in my old home zone of the Skagit Valley.
On that day, my mom and dad and I got to meet Spencer Jack for the first time. That is mom and dad, above, with Spencer Jack held by his mom, Jenny.
Spencer Jack is now 18. Hence the feeling melancholy. Time flies. And mom and dad are no longer with us. Seems so recent mom and dad were functioning fine.
Above we see Spencer Jack meet Blue and Max, the Tacoma poodles who lived with my sister and sister-in-law, prior to the arrival of David, Theo and Ruby a few years later. Blue and Max are also no longer with us.
One of the reasons I was in Washington, at that point in time, in addition to meeting Spencer Jack, was to babysit Blue and Max, whilst their parental units went to Washington, D.C. for a few days.
Leaving Bay View State Park, that day, for reasons I do not remember, we drove by my house in Mount Vernon, which was my abode prior to moving to Texas. Maybe sister-in-law, Kristin, wanted to see it. I know I really did not much want to, knowing seeing it would made me feel, well, melancholy.
As you can see, this was a rather unique house, surrounded by trees. The roof deck garden above the carport is something I suppose I miss most. I grew a lot of things. Blueberries, basil, strawberries, tomatoes, lots of flowers.
The back of the house had another deck, multi-level, entered from the kitchen, overlooking a ravine and creek.
My multiple Texas abodes have never been anywhere near what I was enjoying living in, in Washington, neither the abodes, nor the locations of the abodes, scenery-wise. I could see the Mount Baker volcano, hovering in the distance, from my living room windows.
Now, I am off to find photos I am sure exist which I took up close of Mt. St. Helens, way back in the 1990s.
Well, I found the Mt. St. Helens photos. And also found photos of my Mount Vernon, Pawnee Lane, abode, rendering a fresh melancholy bout.
Below are two of those Mount Vernon house photos...
Above we are on the deck above the carport. Most of the garden part of the deck is behind me. That is one of the blueberry bushes on the right. A large section of the deck had a glass-roofed awning above it. You can see that above the BBQ grill and the small table. There was also a hammock under that awning, which I spent many a fine hour on.
I have no daylight photos of the living room, from whence one could see the Mount Baker volcano, on a clear day.
My morning ritual, back then, was to read the morning paper, as in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, whilst laying on the floor, drinking coffee, with my cat, Hortense, reading with me.
I miss having a real newspaper to read. Online versions are just really not the same thing.
Hortense made the move to Texas, arriving in the Lone Star State a couple months before I did. Hortense made the journey, sedated, in a special carrier device, made for flying felines.
Hortense did a lot of crying and hiding when she first arrived at her new Texas abode. To calm her, Hortense's temporary caretaker would call me so I could talk to Hortense. Just my voice calmed the nervous girl.
Hortense was noticeably happy to see me when I finally arrived in Texas. She lasted for a couple years, before suffering a fatal stroke. Hortense is buried in a horse pasture that was part of my first Texas abode, in the small hamlet of Haslet, at the far north side of Fort Worth.
And now I must do something aerobic to break me free from this current melancholy mood...
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