If you look closely, you can see the tiny patch of blue sky peeking from behind the dark clouds. It's not easy to see because the dark clouds surround the area where the light shines through.
I took this on Monday as Alli and I were driving up highway 2 towards Steven's Pass. For those of you that worry, no, I was not actually driving at the time. We'd just come out of a very small town grocery store with some snacks to see us through our morning adventure.
Yes, I was supposed to be working and she was supposed to be in school. Neither of us were where we should have been that morning....but we were where we needed to be. Away and alone and under threatening darkness with small patches of light shining through. I was looking for more light for her. And some peace.
Once we got to Skykomish, I turned off the highway and just....meandered. It's a postage-sized small town nestled in the Cascade mountains. Alli nodded off once or twice on the way there. I'd taken her cell phone and Ipod from her when we left civilization. I told her it was time to take a day unplugged. She agreed.
Driving from the center of Skykomish we found this overgrown cottage and thought it might be a little too much for a fixer upper and the commute would kill us but dreaming about what we might do to it was fun.
A bit down the road we saw a sign that said Money Creek Park. I turned left and began an ascent that took us further and further from people and abandoned cottages and stress.
We never did find the park. What we find was a road that was two lanes, then one lane and eventually dwindled down to a barely passable lane with a great deal of damage.
We also found this... This must have been Money Creek sans park.
It was beautiful.
Further up we came to a sign that said Lake Elizabeth. Again, no park and no discernible way to get down to the lake but a beautiful and calm lake it was.
Yes, that's snow dusting the evergreens. Twas a bit chilly.
We pressed further onward and upward. I put the suburban into four wheel drive. Alli was once again asleep by this time and missed the part where the road became incredibly difficult and nearly impassable. I found myself talking to myself and the suburban as we jolted and lurched our way through one bad section after another.
She woke up after the jarring parts were over and awoke to see this beautiful place.
We talked. Communicated. Unplugged is good. No distractions. All the background noise and stress was removed and replaced with the gurgling of the creek and sound of wipers brushing falling snow from the windshield.
So no, we weren't where we were supposed to be that day. We ran away and it's ok. Sometimes unplugging, four wheeling and talking is more important than other things. And it lets the light shine more freely through....
I so love my girl.