With the chaos of last Friday, I didn't get a chance to post my last two posts in the favorites category. (I also need to post about my weekend last weekend, and about how it got a TON better after I posted, but maybe in a little while.)
So, here we go.
My favorite sound is the sound of the French language. Well, ok, let me clarify. The sound of the French language being fluently spoken, and myself being an active participant in that, I guess, is what I mean to say.
I've posted before about how weird and amazing it is when you are in another culture, and suddenly the language is so instinctual that it is your language too, almost, for a split second. It's quite the thrill. I am so, so happy that I know another language. I plan to teach our kids how to speak French from birth, because I think everyone should speak two languages. It's wonderful.
My favorite sight is the view from the Ballard Bridge in the mornings. I cross it every day to go to work, and I wish I had a photo of the view at sunrise. It's one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen.
This is a photo looking to the west from the bridge, obviously not at sunrise, but still -- it gives you an idea, anyway.
The bridge runs north and south, connecting Ballard with the Interbay area across the ship canal. Right at the bridge and around it are several working marinas, which, depending on the time of day and season of the year, are filled with fishing boats, masts rising high and naked into the air, like a forest of trees in the wintertime. Many times, that early in the morning, there are kayakers or rowing boats skimming across the water, which usually has some mist rising from it.
If you are crossing the bridge going downtown, on your left (to the east) are boats, the neighborhoods of Fremont and Queen Anne, and the very tall and noticeable Aurora Bridge. In the distance, beyond the sight of the Episcopal cathedral perched on Capitol Hill, rise the Cascade mountains.
On your right (to the west), at the same moment, is the ship canal with all its boats and the neighborhoods of Ballard and Magnolia. Beyond those sit the locks and the railroad bridge, and, in the distance, overpowering all of it, are the breathtaking Olympic mountains.
The sun will be rising over the Cascades, silhouetting them and turning the water underneath the bridge all kinds of colors -- peach, pink, red, silvery -- and it will, at the same time, be throwing light on the distant Olympics, turning their snow-covered slopes gorgeous shades of color.
It is truly one of the most breathtaking things I've ever seen. Every morning, crossing the bridge, I thank God that I am able to live in this most beautiful of cities.