There’s certainly no dearth of beauty out here in the Pacific Northwest. Multnomah Falls is just one of several cascading water veils all lined up vying for the camera’s attention. Mount St. Helens blew her stack more than 30 years ago yet sits idly, biding her time, her beautiful snowy dressing hiding her fiery temper. The cherry blossoms, unlike in Michigan’s Northwest, have already burst out as if to say, “Dibs on the sunshine.” And when you awake after days of gray and see a ghostly orb on your hotel’s bathroom door, don’t call in the Ghost Hunters, just notice the peep hole in the door, concentrating the rays across the room. But don’t — I mean don’t — look out through the tiny window.

 

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