Something that would draw me to my blog, other then the fact that I made it, were the pictures. The drawbacks of my blog was that I did not post on my blog as frequently as I would have liked. I think it would be better if I had A LOT more posts.

From my blogging experience, I learned a lot of things. One of the things that I think that I definitely learned was actually how to make a blog, something I didn’t know before. I think that blog is different from journaling because you type and this is on the computer so people you don’t know can read them. I think that these two particular blogs I’ll drop but during summer I’m going to start one called ‘sipping lemonade’ which records my summer experiences and all that I do.

That’s all folks!

Nice picture Joey! He took the picture above on our trip to Huricane ridge in December! My brother loves photography and he is amazing at it!

2. Mt. Ranier

<We didn’t take this picture, but we did stand on the shores of this lake.

3. Cannon Beach

4. Olympic National Park

5. OPI

6. Long Beach

7. Seattle at Night

8. My Backyard

9. The Grand Forest

10. My Garden

Hay Stack Rock in Glory

Sitting in a Row (You can tell it’s about to rain)

By Katie

When the pale moonlight sun shines over the fields of gold,

The trees come alive with the stories of old.

They tell of the firey leaves that drop in the fall,

They tell of a wolf’s lonely and heartbroken call.

They tell of the stained earth where blood once spread,

They tell of barren fields where sorrow once bred.

They tell of the smoke that filled and poisoned the air,

They tell of the birds that watched their home burn with despair.

They tell of the pale waterfalls that fall pounding to the earth,

They tell of the warm spring mornings and the joy of new birth.

They tell the many stories the stars have heard and seen,

They tell about the wilderness and its adventurers so keen.

They tell of the lush green trees casting dapples of shade,

They tell of those who are lost and are forever mortally afraid.

They tell of the dew that sparkles in the soft morning light,

They tell of the dreamers and wishers that gaze into the night.  

They tell of the glittering river as it rushes to the sea,

They tell of fawns leaping in summer fields, bright with glee.   

 They tell of the paths strewn with black forest stones,

They tell of sinister ghosts and the rattling of dead bones.  

They tell of winter mornings, bright with sparkling, white snow,

They tell of warm summer streams that will forever glisten and flow.

They tell of the rain and the unworldly lullaby it sings,

 They tell of the songs and the music of soft beating wings

They tell of the flowers bright with youth and sun,

They tell of the tales that have only just begun.

They tell of the grace and pride of nature and life,

They tell of the forsaken and their life full of strife.   

They tell of the past, the present, and what is to come

But above all they tell us where we all belong.