Here is one of the views that greets drivers arriving in Sequim from the east. It has an everyday look that doesn’t distinguish it much from other small towns. But, for me, as the road opens out from forest to open prairie it’s a bright welcome home. This view looks north. The Strait of Juan de Fuca is in the far distance. What you don’t see to the south are the stunning Olympic Mountains, which are anything but everyday.
What a lovely view to come home to – our first view of Bellingham, from north or south, is always businesses and more businesses. You don’t ease into Bellingham.
My sister lives on the West coast too, Lake Oswego, OR.
This is a beautiful vista! And from a far distance. I had to look closely to discern those were cows in the field. There’s no place like home!
You’re a poet
I hope you know it
Causes from where I sit
You sure show it!
:))))
I have a love/hate relationship with the view from the highway into my home. The lights and tall buildings are quite a sight, but also hurt the eyes a little.
Although there is no similarity between your photo and the images and sentiment in the poem, your title reminds me of Frost’s poem, “The Death of the Hired Man.” I have always loved it; if you are not familiar with it, google it and read it. The lines that return to me again and again are: Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.
My heart catches in my throat when I recall it and think about all the circumstance involved in “coming home”–both negative and positive.