Blinding light

From above, inspiring trophy-winning physical efforts by one and all; our cat impressed a friend a few blocks away by following us and rushing up into her yard to nose around. He sprawled in a patch of sunlight when we got home, exhausted from his hike. My mother got in close to seven blocks' worth of walking, and a spanking new hairdo; usual maintenance run and workout for me, under heartening blue skies. We drove around Green Lake, admiring the last few clinging golden leaves spangled against the dark blue water. She always remembers walking around its three plus miles circumference with Dad, the last time being ten years ago. They would walk down there from our house, briskly circle it, and come back with observations about all the intriguing people they'd seen. It was more scenic than their daily walks on the flat streets of our home town back in Ohio, and one of the experiences they savored during their visits here every summer. They'd seen the Space Needle, the Pike Place Market, the zoo and aquarium, ridden ferries over the Sound, but the hikes we took, in Discovery Park, or just down and around Green Lake, seemed to be especially memorable for them. We reminesce about them regularly, during whatever number of blocks that is manageable.