Not that it's unique to me, but in the past several days I've noticed a lot of flag poles I previously haven't thought much about--maybe never. The first one to give pause was at the park across the river from my home on Friday evening. The time was right around sunset, and I was facing northeast. There was no wind, although I scarcely need to mention that to anyone seeing the picutre. The flag at half-mast struck me as incredibly sad, a fitting feeling, given the occasion. Losing a true statesman in this era of insults and mean-spirited accusations feels devastating.
The second picture is from the Farmers Market in Lake Forest Park, a Sunday event I never miss if I possibly can help it. I approached the market from a different angle this morning, because I had taken my morning walk along the shoreline of Lake Washington before shopping. There was a slight breeze, and the glory of the flag, even at half-mast, struck me. Yes, we mourn the passing of a great man, but wouldn't he have wanted us to see 'Old Glory' flying in this perfect way? What a fitting tribute.