It’s a Nice Day, Isn’t It?

“Enjoy the sun while it lasts!” “It’s a beautiful day!”

We’ve experienced months of rain and these were the words that greeted me as I walked down the dock and went about my daily errands.

But when I returned home and couldn’t find a single freakin’ parking space I realized it was more than a gorgeous day.

It was the kind of day where…….the tourists arrive in droves.

The parking lot was a free-for-all, clogged with drivers who didn’t think the rules of the road applied to the street running through our houseboat community.

I navigated around clumps of people standing and gaping in the middle of the street and cars angled in impossible directions, until I found a parking space, albeit a space in the small, despised lot where I never park because it floods during high tides.

Tourists!

I was feeling snarky. Put-upon by the visiting hordes. And then I remembered……  

They were here to visit the artists on Issaquah dock. How wonderful to live in a community of artists. It’s a gift to live in a spot where people turn out to take photographs and the following statement was overheard: “The houseboats go on forever.” Yes, someone said that with a whispered inflection of awe in their voice, and trust me, the houseboats don’t. Go on forever, I mean. But it’s a nice idea; one I carried with me as I snapped these photographs to share with you.

Perhaps someone was remembering a lawn that needed to be cut, or a garage that needed to be cleaned, and imagining what their life might be like if they lived a bohemian lifestyle in the water on a glorious day. Or some may have wondered, ‘what kind of crazy people live like this?’ and looked forward to returning home to a more spacious life and three-car garage. Whatever people were thinking, they chose to come out and take photographs and enjoy the day. 

As the seaplane – carrying tourists — droned in for a landing in Richardson’s Bay, I headed down the dock with a bag of groceries and the week’s dry cleaning. My mind was on what I would be writing that afternoon and I pulled myself back to the present when a couple of male visitors with cameras held open the gate for me. Not sure whether they were welcome on the dock, they shyly smiled and mumbled “hello.” I greeted them and remembered to be grateful. You can write anywhere – but it’s lovely to live and write here.

When the tour buses pull out, and the seaplane pilot goes home for the night, and the parking spaces free up for the residents, I’ll be pouring myself another cup of tea, appreciating how long it’s light outside at this time of year. And glad, that for a while, I can live this life.