Often it's a smell. Sometimes it's a scene. Or a song. Suddenly, you're whisked back in time, a childhood memory fresh and bright in your mind.
|Kite surfer enjoying the wind at Juanita Beach.|
It happens to me while Finn and I take an early evening stroll in very blustery spring weather. The wind, the big whitecaps - their spray highlighted by the sun - and waves crashing onto shore at Juanita Beach take me back to growing up on Lake Sammamish. On many days like this, back in the 1970s, my brothers and I would put on our beaver-tail wet suits and jump into the cold, cold lake to try to body surf on the waves. I would stay in as long as I could, until numbness set in, then dash back up to the house and into a hot shower.
|Finn's not sure about posing in the wind.|
As I struggle to keep Finn's leash in one hand, and take photos with my iPhone in the other, a kind stranger offers to take a photo of me and Finn:
|My ponytail and Finn's ears fly!|
The kind stranger did well!
|Is that a big duck?|