I anticipate this part of the road every day.
If it is a frosty day, I check for black ice before descending the quarter-mile dip.
To the right, as I head north, there is a small valley and water collects there.
Mt. Baker is just beyond the treetops and the sun will rise there flooding the road with light on a clear day.
To the west, a marshy stand of alders has sprung up, creating a dark, shadowy run of streamlets between two small hills.
Sometimes there are swans taking refuge on their migratory path.
Sometimes there are Canada geese, poking their long necks about the reeds.
In summer, the water is gone, replaced by reedy grass and horsetails.
I always slow down on that dip, enjoying how each season reveals itself in the contours and colors there.