I drove home from work this evening with clogged sinuses (and a bit of a clogged mind). I thought about traffic, I thought about work, I thought about love, I thought about music, I thought about dinner, I thought about friends, I thought about my damn sinuses.
And then I stopped thinking.
The San Gabriels hulked in front of me at the end of the 10, like it was a runway to the moon. They were totally dipped in snow, peak to horizon, and because the sun was setting, they glowed a faint My Pretty Pony pink. It was magical.
I divvied my attention between these glowing rose behemoths and the road (maybe they should have a no-staring-at-pretty-mountains-while-driving law, in addition to the no-talking-on-cell-phones-while-driving law). They were like smooth peaks of strawberry ice cream jutting out of a bowl of palm trees. Delish.
I try not to take this city (or the amazing opportunities it's afforded me) for granted - but sometimes you forget. THEN you see giant pink snowy mountains on your drive home and you remember and you're totally thankful.
You want to see a picture?
I don't have one.
I mean...dude, I was DRIVING.
But here's some photos from last year's Olympic National Park trip to give you a sense of just how sexy mother nature can be...