Rippling pool water, comfy lounge chairs, palm trees, and a beautiful blue sky all project a “vaporwave come to life” image.
Even without a full array of ancillary pillows, a spot to lounge by the pool on a cool desert evening seems like an enormous upgrade over the second half of winter in Northern New York.
Whether it’s a hot desert afternoon or a cool desert night, the best seat by the pool appears to be the seat in the pool.
Trees frame the sunset at Long Lake.
Literally looks like a house.
North Carolina has beaches for miles.
North Carolina’s Outer Banks.
Summer’s just around the corner.
It’s not one of the more iconic lighthouses of the outer banks (like Cape Hateras or Bodie Island) but the diminutive Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse on Roanoke Island (yeah, that Roanoke) has a certain charm.
I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is but there’s something very inviting about the iconic Charleston single houses. Maybe it’s the welcoming looking piazzas, or maybe it’s the palmetto’s standing guard.
Today’s guest post comes courtesy of Colin Hill.
Here is the boat lauch ramp on the shores of Lake Pontoosuc, just north of Pittsfield, Massachusetts. Although spring has arrived and the sun takes longer to disappear behind the mountains in the distance, the water is still icy cold to the touch.
I had my own staging of Two-Lane Blacktop in central Oregon this weekend, with the company of this particularly lovely 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet. This is grass seed country, and this particular weekend fell in the middle of the harvest. Long, perfectly maintained roads are intercut with forested hillsides and busy fields. By this point in the evening, however, nightfall brought calm with it.
For every sunny hilltop like the one above, there was a tree-lined valley. The setting sun really picks out the details of every treetop, but it’s a shame that Oregon has such a clean, healthy atmosphere. Without other molecules in the air to scatter the light, the sunsets lack the exciting colors of other parts of the country. This photograph captures the feeling of blasting down the road, wind in my hair, with only an occasional truck for company.