Then and now

When I moved to Seattle - a long time ago - I worked at a startup and saved money for about nine months. I wanted to buy a house. Badly. I don't know why it was so important. But I got aced out of two deals in the 11th hour; one in Fremont and one on Queen Anne. It made me bitter, and I rejected the city for the cheaper, simpler fare of the country.

I found a five acre piece outside of Bothell, with a teeny wood-heated farmhouse on it. A small lodge-pole barn. I bought it, and got two sheep to graze it down. It was a muddy life.

This picture shows that farm - the piece in red was my 4.6 acres. The whole area you can see here was five acre slices with one or two farmhouses on each. Lots of barns and animals. The county wouldn't let you build more than that.

Then... this mob of house started being built up the road from my property. And the mob continued angrily marching toward me. About four years ago the county told me they were 'forcing density' and that one couldn't just build a house anymore. You had to build no fewer than four houses per acre. So my farm had to have at least twenty houses on it, or nothing at all. It certainly made the place more valuable. And uglier.

I got the aging neighbor woman to go in with me, and we sold out. She bought a condo in the city, and a timeshare in Mexico. I didn't do either of those things, but I did some other stuff.

The red dot is where my house used to be. There are secrets under those houses.

Dalton says it best: "People ruin everything."

Such a full life, yet with so little to say to entertain you. Sorry.

This is the view of the Olympics. It has been like this for two weeks. It will remain so for at least two more. Or variations on this theme.
It's spring.

Living up to its name

Sister Gail took this shot yesterday.