Month Three. Reserve. #SEA.
I'm sitting in a coffee shop in my sleepy little Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle after a morning of train hopping, ferry sailing, carshare riding and general Pacific Northwest nature watching.
Two days ago I watched the salmon climb the fish ladders at the Ballard Locks and stopped to talk to a park ranger who told me all about the life cycle of the sockeye.
Yesterday my boyfriend and I spent the day outdoors, gardening and exploring Whidbey Island. I made iced tea with honey and blackberries that I plucked directly from our front yard.
I wake up to mountains in pretty much every directions and the scent of warm dew meeting cool, scorched grass.
I have endless summer plans to swim in the lake, brew my own beer, go on long bike rides, BBQ on my rooftop deck and sleep in with my cat and my boyfriend snuggled close.
I'm home and I'm on reserve duty, but life couldn't be more perfect. No more commuting to and from Minneapolis. No more running from airport counter to airport counter, just trying to get to work. Being on-call in Seattle might mean that my uniform will always be pressed and ready to go, and my phone will always be on, but I absolutely will be soaking in every last lovely detail of Seattle while I wait for work to call me.
I don't mind waiting. The view is pretty darn nice here.