DIY Ethics

I bought this super nice jacket last year.  Two days later, I inadvertently backed into wet paint.  Haven't worn it since until this:

Half-marathon

Ran the Frost Eagle Half-Marathon last weekend at Soaring Eagle Regional Park in Sammamish. It was a trail run event, the day was super rainy, and water occupied much of the course. Had a hard time running these conditions given I did most of my training on road, track, or groomed trails. Finished in 125 minutes, and (surprisingly) placed 11th overall.

Photo by: Michael Lake 

Weekend Trip

I signed up to volunteer as an event photographer for Northwest Trail Runs at Fort Ebey State Park.

Was given accommodations in Coupeville overnight. 

Took the ferry from Mukilteo. 

Should've known the line would take long. 

Spent the rest of the afternoon at the state park attempting to paint the sunset. Alas, the sun set far too quickly - like, in 15 minutes - so I wasn't able to finish the piece right then.

Sheep May Safely Graze

This is Egon Petri's piano arrangement of J.S. Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze."  I started learning the piece in August after my trip to Glacier National Park.  The mountain goats and verdant valleys were reminders of this piece, I think.
If you listen closely, you can hear hoofs walking, sheep bells clanging, and see the pastures at their greenest in spring.  This video is just practice so I'm cognizant of the errors within.  Will probably later on update with better performance on high-tech equipment.

Re:

In conjunction.  I (almost)always hear professional musicians play this very slowly.  The notation indicates "Andante" and I gather that to mean "walk."  Maybe I'm wrong?

New Art

A tempestuous landscape above alpine meadows. The idea was inspired by the views from the trail up the Issaquah Alps past many treelines - mainly Tiger Mountain.

This piece reminds me of a scene in Annie Dillard's essay, "The Present," in which she is seated outside a gas station, sipping free coffee in a paper cup which costs $0.50. She notices the tremulous landscape, and the swaying of trees as the wind brushes against them. In that moment, she challenges the reader to capture the present. "Catch it if you can" she says. I guess I haven't really thought about this, but I think I hang on to art to crucify the present. There isn't much I can say on why I do this. Not much until now, I guess.