1.
summer wheat harvest
between stubble tire tracks
seed sown rows of spring
2.
suddenly a song
a tree of paper lanterns
nowhere else to go!
3.
summer smoke melted
soaked in golden autumn leaves
bathing the blue sky
melt, #120
Author: jpallen
looking, #119
who cracked the walnut
looking for the meat inside…
instead finds autumn!
summer – autumn, #118
1.
quail skitters across
one shadow to another
skating on thin ice
2.
below the maples
a light in the midnight soil
blooms autumn crocus
3.
a shivering breeze
a red leaf landing below
whispering autumn
summer flames, #117
a crack in the haze
particles from distant flames
fire’s glow unseen
early September, #116
I spent the last 8 days quietly: off of the computer, no pencil and paper, email or reading.
My schedule allowed me to walk in the early morning and late evening.
Below are photographs taken this week representing each day:
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7
Day 8
late summer flowers, #115
1.
There is small patch of dry soil on the corner of 6th and Jackson streets. Two of its sides are boarded by a fence at the edge of a paved parking lot. The other two sides by the curve of the sidewalk. Because we have had little rain this patch of ground has gotten little water. The soil is as white and hard as the concrete that surrounds it. I would have paid little attention to it except for sprouting in the barely discernible crack between the sidewalk and the soil is an Indian Blanket whose blooms are saturated in reds and yellows. The Indian blanket is a drought hardy plant, but I was amazed that something so beautiful and vibrant could come from, in my view, the harsh conditions of the hard and dry soil.
while the day’s traffic
stops and goes to red and green…
a silent witness
2.
3.
August Monthly Gallery:
Click on any image to view in the gallery. Use the side arrows to cycle through the images. To exit the gallery, click on the “X” in the upper right hand corner.
late summer waves, #114
1.
2.
Last night I went for a walk intending to watch the sunset. I got a late start and when walking over the hill into the canyon on a dirt trail above the South Fork of the Palouse River, I found the sun had already set. It was that momentary pause between day and night when boundaries disappear and colors blend. I find a beauty in this pause and lose myself in the conversation where for a moment all are talking and listening in silence.
As the darkness deepened I remained lost when the night conversation began with the calling of Crickets and Katydids. In the pause and into the night there were no boundaries or a sense of time, a felt a hint of something beyond myself. After returning home I thought about the conversations I participate in daily with my neighbors, driving from one place to another weaving from lane to lane, and those I spend the day with. Two questions came to mind; where does this feeling go when walking through the pause from night into day and how can I carry it to silently participate in the day’s conversations?
Palouse hills echo
rimmed in light years moonlight gray
coyotes yip-yipping
the maple tree, #113
when autumn winds blow
where will they go when they fall?
and who will listen?
late summer, #112
deep tree shadow’s edge
thistle purple blooms gone white
soon the autumn winds
Dry waterfall, #111
This year the waterfall below Ivan Carper pass is a trickle. On our hike last year at this time, it was raging, filling the valley with its roar. The mountain meadows, although not as green as previous years, are still a contrast to the brown fields of the Palouse we drove through on our way here. Walking up to Minam Lake in the Wallowas, over Ivan-Carper pass to the lake basin, and out following the glacial valley where the East Lostine River meanders, there are also fewer flowers. The plants and the blooms seemed re-energized from the monsoon rain moisture that had come through a day ago. In the rain and the sunshine that followed we walked by Rainer Gentian, St. John’s Wort, Pacific Onion, Pearly Everlasting, Common Yarrow, Sulphuric Flower, Aspen Fleabane, Dwarf Fireweed, and Indian Paintbrush. I’ve never been one to learn the names of things. Camping at Mirror Lake I woke up in the middle of the night to pee and while out had to use my star gazing app to find out the names of stars and constellations. I learned I was seeing Jupiter and Saturn watching Draco flying between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor and the Milky Way spilling into a rising crescent moon. A sad feeling came over me, not having not paid much attention before to the names of things. I’d spent much of my life walking too quickly passing flowers not giving them the respect and appreciation they deserve for the efforts they give, whether it is a hot and dry or cool and moist.
flow in the meadow
purple and green waterfalls
a dusty trail’s edge
July monthly gallery:
