The Red Maple blooms
Open in the spring day sun
Inviting a guest
Author: jpallen
Lunch Hour, #17
Putting the key into the ignition, I realize it has been seven days since I’ve driven. On State Route 270 the only car in sight is passing, we nod and share a wave. Arriving in town I take a walk on Main Street. It’s hard to believe it is a weekday lunch hour. I walk by two people and keeping our distance we nod and share a smile. I pause gazing up and down the street. Across the way there is the sudden sound of a door closing. The proprietor engages the lock.
Twist of a key ring
Echoes up and down the street…
A choir of bells
Raindrop, #16
Water ponds on stone
Raindrop ripples the surface
Vanishes from sight
Windy days, #15
The trail is dry and hard. I might think it is late summer if it were not for the cold gusts of a spring wind that makes me stumble off the trail finding something a dog left behind. Another gust of wind arrives and I stumble, almost stepping on small spring flowers. I arrive at a bench and sit, tighten the zipper of my coat, and place a hand in each pocket.
Cold Spring wind blowing
Tall grasses bend and shiver
Deep roots hold steady
A spring snow, #14
Hanging by a thread
A teasel takes on spring snow
Already broken
A new day, #13
I was reading a chapter titled “Live in the Present Moment,” when I was stuck by this quote, “Remember that this moment is not your life, it’s just a moment in your life.” (1) I thought to myself how this would be a good thing to share here in my blog. But as I thought about it more, the realization came that in the act of thinking about this, I went from being in the moment to not being in the moment!
I find this quote a good practice in these difficult times in the world and in my immediate surroundings; To feel gratitude for being present and to ask what I can do to flatten the curve while continuing to be social and offer assistance to my neighbors. I’ve reached out to neighbors and friends to offer friendship and an openness to ask if there is anything they need, responding as the moment requires. It also occured to me that to simply stop doing and to stay home is a compassionate act toward others, especially those that are at a higher risk.
Part of my practice is to be diligent and with intention be considerate of my neighbors. I look forward with curiosity about how the next several weeks will progress and how this event will shape our relationships with each other and this place we call home.
The wild grasses
Painted with a thin spring frost,
The morning light pops!
(1) Ryan Holiday, The Obstacle is the Way (Penguin group, 2014)
48
afternoon, #12
melting snow on edge
layers embedded with stone
roaring waterfall
morning, evening, #11
cool quiet morning
flock of birds above full moon
light as a feather
moist patches of green
peeking through winter stubble
welcome this spring rain
Action – Effect, #10
The person in the photograph featured is Logan, a local university student. On Fridays, he stands on the corner of 3rd and Washington Street, bringing an awareness to drivers and walkers passing by about climate change. He has been doing this since he organized our local Climate March on April 12, 2019, or possibly longer.
Another person who invested time in increasing awareness who I met recently is Peter. He is author of the book ‘Healing the Big River, Salmon Dreams in the Columbia River Treaty‘. Peter drove the entire length of the Columbia River, from the headwaters at Canal Flat Canada to the Pacific Ocean at Ilwaco, Washington. The book is a photographic document alongside essays of those he met along the way. Here are two quotes that touched me:
“In the summer some 80 years ago, my grandfather went to the shore near the Windemere to greet the return of the salmon. Days went by, then weeks, maybe a month. No fish. What is wrong? My grandfather wondered if the creator was angry for some reason. We did not know about the building of the grand Coulee Dam that stopped our salmon from coming home. We are still waiting.” -Alfred Joseph, Chief of Akisq’nuk First Nation.
Peter Pochocki Marbach Healing the Big River, Salmon Dreams in the Columbia River Treaty (Brown Printing Portland, Oregon, copyright Peter Marbach 2019), 26
“My generation will be some of the last people to know glaciers on the mountain peaks. We will be some of the last to love many oceanside places. Some of the last to remember summers not consumed by wildfire and choked by smoke. Some of the first to get used to the term ‘climate refugee’. My generation will be one of the last to have lived in a time before this loss became – to some degree – inevitable” -Graeme Lee Rolands
Peter Pochocki Marbach Healing the Big River, Salmon Dreams in the Columbia River Treaty (Brown Printing Portland, Oregon, copyright Peter Marbach 2019), 45
Peter brought to me an awareness of how our actions today affect not only people here now, but also our future generations. He also brings to our attention that the U.S. State Department and Global Affairs Canada are engaged in talks that are aimed at updating the Columbia River Treaty. He is getting the message out that there is now an opportunity to make our voice heard for the people who depend on the salmon runs and the river.
I am grateful for Logan’s and Peter’s actions. They serve as a reminder to stop and pay attention every day, to not give up and continue to do my part, and to realize the effect of each action I take on our earth and the community that depends on it.
bird song, winter? spring?
snow drops sprout in snow removed
morning alarm rings
Palouse Mountains and Buttes, #9
A geologist once shared with me that the mountains and buttes in the Palouse region are the tips of granite mountains whose valleys were filled 6 to 17 million years ago by the eastern edge of the Columbia Basin flood basalts. Each peak is made up of the same material, but on my walks among them, I find each is unique.
I have walked all of the peeks pictured on this page except for Tomer Butte which I have circled on my bicycle. That route follows Lenville Road to the Genesee to Troy Road, and then returning along the Latah trail. It is a beautiful ride.
I photographed this series in the fall and winter of 2017.
Ancient granite peaks
grassy ruts in wind blown loess
look! a shooting star
Branches waters clouds
Mountain gifts for I to nest
Swallowing the moon