One Hundred and Ninety, Epic Fail

I won't say a game is sucking my life away because that would imply that I am miserable playing it both with people I know and with people I've never met.  That, however, is not the case.  I felt a thrill of joy in the weeks leading up to the release of the expansion and now I have some goals on what I want to accomplish with it.  I've taken my first steps into Northrend and they are thrilling and sturdy ones.

One Hundred and Twelve, A Bright Red Carnation

I almost missed it as I was walking along reading my fluff book on the way to the library. But the flash of color made me pause. I turned around but didn't see anything. Then as my gaze went back downwards to reconnect with the book, I glimpsed it. In the wintery gray world, its color made it stand out like a beacon. I bent down and picked it up. I imagined how it had gotten there looking so fresh. Was it late for a previous day this month? Or possibly a thank you to a visitor? Perhaps it was just a simple way for one person to say, "I love you," to another. These and more wonderful possibilities flashed through my head. I glanced up at others passing me but they didn't see it. They didn't know another human being was passing them by on their left. I didn't want to just leave it somewhere but I knew there was no purpose to me taking it home. That's when I espied a bench. It wasn't set on the pathway, rather a few feet back within a quagmire of mud. Balancing myself on a couple of thick sticks, I gently laid it down on the bench. Jumping back to the sediment-free (relatively) sidewalk, I looked over my handiwork, proud of what I'd done. I walked away a bit and then glanced back. There it was, the brilliant flash of color in the otherwise dreary world.

Eleven, Hope Junction

I have a couple of comparison shots set up today. The one where everything is caked over in ice are shots I took when I was there. The ones with water flowing are ones my Alaskan friend took some other time when it wasn't as cold.

These two are almost the same shot

These two are another shot

An excerpt from March 18th, 2006:
"It was breath-taking. We stopped near Hope Junction and got out of the car and walked a short area from the road. I was a bit hesitant because it was downhill slightly. But when I arrived, Oh. My. There was a little wooden bridge crossing over a partially frozen over creek which was deep down the little canyon merging with another creek a little beyond the bridge just beyond the end of the canyon where there was a shoreline on the opposite side that came down to the merging of the creeks. And the trees were covered in the fresh snow that even then was falling adding to the magical quality of the spot. It was beautiful. And on the other side of the bridge was a small cave with a short ice waterfall coming out of it. It looked like some fantastical place where hidden ice dragons were harboring their captives and there was even a pathway across an icy slope up to it that involved crossing an ice bridge with flowing icy water underneath."

And, just because it's one of the neat shots I took back then

That was a magical trip. Between seeing a good friend of mine and getting a chance to visit Alaska and San Francisco in one go, it was memorable.