Centennial Trail

Even the octopus knows to make good choices, unlike my parking skills.

Lake Stevens. A place where even the buildings scream at you to 'MAKE GOOD CHOICES'. Because nothing says 'responsible living' like a giant blue octopus reminding you of your life decisions. I mean, who needs a life coach when you have street art? The mural is a burst of colors and creativity, a stark contrast to the overcast sky that seems to be in a perpetual state of 'meh'. And let's not forget the white car parked right in front of the masterpiece, as if saying, 'Hey, I make good choices, like parking here.' If you ever find yourself wandering around Hartford, do yourself a favor and swing by this mural. It's a short detour from the Centennial Trail, which is the highlight of the day unless you're really into existential street art. Just remember, every choice you make is being judged by a very colorful octopus.

When your car insurance doesn't cover time travel, so you park it in the 1930s.

Nestled in the Hidden Glen Mobile Home Park, this vintage truck looks like it drove straight out of a history book and parked itself in front of a modern-day diner. The 'BURGERS & SHAKES' sign is a stark reminder that while the truck has aged like a fine wine (or maybe more like a forgotten bottle of vinegar), the quest for a good burger remains timeless. The truck, with its 'WINYARD COAL' sign, seems to whisper tales of the past, of simpler times when horsepower was literal and gas pumps looked like they belonged in a museum. If Centennial Trail was the highlight of the day, this scene is the delightful encore. It's like Arlington decided to throw in a bonus round of nostalgia, just to keep things interesting. So, if you ever find yourself in this neck of the woods, take a detour and let the past catch up with you. Just don't forget to snap a picture; after all, memories are the best souvenirs.

When life gives you twists and turns, just stand tall like this tree and confuse everyone.

It's as if someone decided that nature needed a bit more whimsy and less predictability. The tree, with its curly branches reaching out like it's trying to grab the clouds, stands in stark contrast to the utilitarian surroundings. On one side, you have a chain-link fence and a building that looks like it’s perpetually stuck in a 1980s industrial film. On the other, a row of cars, each one probably regretting its life choices of being parked there. The bench by the fence seems to be the perfect spot for pondering life's mysteries or just wondering why someone thought a metal tree was a good idea. But hey, it's art, and who am I to judge? The distant mountains add a touch of serenity to the scene, reminding you that even in the midst of human creativity and chaos, nature still holds its ground. So, if you find yourself on the Centennial Trail, take a moment to appreciate this quirky piece of art. It’s like a philosophical pause button in the middle of your journey.

When your train of thought derails into the parking lot.

I found myself drawn to the Action Sports building in Arlington. Not for the sports gear, mind you, but for the mural that completely transforms one of its walls. This isn’t just any mural; it’s a steam train adventure frozen in time. The level of detail is so high that you half expect the train to chug right off the wall and into the parking lot, probably to the chagrin of the U-Haul trucks and their drivers. The mural juxtaposes the old with the new, the adventurous with the mundane. It's as if the artist wanted to remind us that history isn't just something you read about in books; it's something that can be vividly brought to life, even on the side of a building. The surrounding cars and trucks, with their modern-day practicality, only serve to highlight the whimsical nature of the mural. So, if you ever find yourself in Arlington, take a detour to the Action Sports building. Stand there for a moment, let your imagination run wild, and appreciate the art that turns an ordinary wall into a portal to another time.

Time stands still, but the neighbors don't!

After marveling at the mural, I wandered deeper into Snohomish and found myself in front of this charming vintage street clock. It's like a relic from a time when punctuality was a virtue and wristwatches were a luxury. Nestled in a residential area, the clock stands tall and proud, as if it's the neighborhood's unofficial timekeeper. The houses around it seem to nod in agreement with each tick, each tock. The overcast sky, still refusing to show any hint of blue, adds a certain gravitas to the scene. I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of this clock judging the punctuality of everyone passing by. It's moments like these that make you appreciate the quirks and hidden gems of small towns. And who knows, maybe next time I'll find a sundial in someone's backyard, silently mocking our reliance on digital time.