Two little seagulls, sitting on a rock

I tried to add a couple of lines to my nursery rhyme title, but didn't come up with anything publishable.  Maybe someone out there can help me.  I felt a bit depressed yesterday morning, as the reality of rainy-day commuting hit me.  Then I found myself noticing how much nature seems to enjoy the wet weather.  On the way home from work, as I went over the Lions Gate Bridge, I looked way down and saw two white specs on a rock.  With my 18-zoom, it amazed me that I captured a reasonable representation of these seagulls.  I watched them for quite some time, and took several photos.  Although they have turned their backs on each other in this photo, my feeling is that they were quite content in each other's company, with the soft mist falling over them.

My next stop was on the way up Cyprus Street.  Any cyclists familiar with this route will tell you that the steepest part of the hill is from 5th to 6th Avenue.  Right at 6th is this wonderful Community Garden.  Thank you to the people who maintain it.  It brightened my day a lot, yesterday.

I've always loved all shades of blue, and this hydrant looked really fine next to the mauve plants around it. 
These flowers, with their glistening droplets of water, were loving the rain.
Bill must have guessed the color theme for the day, because the dessert he prepared fit perfectly.  Another great end to a good day.  Rain, rain, you don't have to go away after all.
This morning, it was raining harder.  I had to wear my booties and rain pants.  I was also late, so no time to stop on the way to work.  About half way there, the rain stopped, and I was way too warm for the latter part of my ride.  Better than too cold though.  And I reminded myself that rain is a heck of a lot easier to deal with than ice.

On the way home, I stopped again on the bridge.  It's beginning to be a habit.  I looked over to Stanley Park, and took this (sort of) impressionist image.  I felt a little Debussy running through the mist.  It also reminded me just a tiny bit of some of Emily Carr's paintings.  If you haven't read her "Hundreds and Thousands" journals, you might enjoy the beautiful beast stories, as well as the insights into her heart and mind. 
Then, I looked wa-a-ay down, and saw this dog fetching sticks thrown obligingly by its human.  Seemed to be no problem with the rain for either of them.  
I looked over to the other side of the bridge and the mist was magical. Rain, you're okay.  I can live with you for another season.  I might even find myself looking forward to your charms.
Home to a new salad look.  Bill is finding his own way to brighten the day.  Sun isn't so far off, after all.