the old oils flow wet
a freshly painted canvas
Palouse winter fog
Click on any image to view in the gallery. Use the side arrows to cycle through the images. To exit the gallery, click anywhere on the page or on the “X” in the upper right hand corner.
We started up the trailhead, leaving our car alone in the parking lot. We walked single file, you in front, as we weaved our way though leafless branches stuck in winter’s shadow heavy with autumn rain. It was quiet. The only sound was the crunch our feet on fallen leaves and sticks scattered on the wood chip path. The day was unusually warm, but it felt cool under the weight of thicket’s canopy. We reached the edge of south hill’s shadow into the warm wind and sun; you reached out to hold my hand.
out-stretched rigid wings
wind weaves; feather folds shiver
her whispering cry
Click on any image to view in the gallery. Use the side arrows to cycle through the images. To exit the gallery, click anywhere on the page or on the “X” in the upper right hand corner.
a light in the night
your leaves and branches -beaming
in the mountain pond
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.
1.
green and yellow dance
hand in hand with passing clouds
twirling autumn winds
2.
puddle to puddle
downtown walkers splashing through
brittle autumn leaves
3.
where are they going?
cloaking the air with chatter
sparks of red and gold
Click on any image to view in the gallery. Use the side arrows to cycle through the images. To exit the gallery, click anywhere on the page or on the “X” in the upper right hand corner.
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.
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.
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
1
clip! -a severed branch
within the camera‘s click
falling leaves wither
2.
in the new pole’s light
the meandering vine winds
in old tree’s shadow
3.
distant wild fire drift
willow branches hang in haze
western summer fog
Related Gallery: TREES
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.
1.0
Melissa and I recently traveled to the Oregon Coast to spend a week with family at Tierra Del Mar (which in English translates to Land of the Ocean). The first night we stayed in Biggs Junction. On day two we stopped for a hike in the Columbia River Gorge. We hiked a five mile loop visiting many waterfalls and parts of the 2017 Eagle Creek fire.
I had driven through the Gorge on I-84 a few times since the fire. However, it was not until this trip on our drive home (we took Washington State Highway 14 which follows the north side of the Columbia River) that I was able to take in the immensity of the fire.
I wondered if I behave this way toward our natural resources and climate change? I hike (drive) in water daily: washing my face, making tea, cooking, showering, watering the garden. I use water, but do I see the immensity of my use? Do I realize how precious water is to my physical existence, allowing me to think, feel, and love?
I recall a Thich Nhat Hanh gatha I first noticed in Spanish. I know a few Spanish words and in this writing, agua, Tierra, and gratitud, caught my attention. I found the gatha later in Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, peace is every breath: a practice for our busy lives:
“Water Flows from high mountain sources.
Water runs deep in the Earth.
Miraculously, water comes to us.
I am filled with gratitude.” [1]
2.
Spilling in my hands
water’s sparkling gemstones
I splash sleepy eyes
In a mist of blue
above green waves of sea-foam
charred water falls
3.
Photo Gallery: Water Falls -Columbia River gorge.
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.
[1] – Thich Nhat Hanh, peace is every breath, (HarperOne; Reprint Kindle edition, 2011), pg. 12
1.0
Once frothy white noise
today cracking dry whitecaps
drifting clouds no rain
2.0
Fading green patches
dry grasses stretch across fields
not yet summertime
3.0
Shaped by the water,
grounded and smoothed, dry river
under my bare feet
1.
Wind whipped whitecaps
ride breaking sea waves
-iridescent bubbles
2.
Tossing a pebble-
the lake surface shatters
sparkling waves
3.
Melting snow-
thunderous mountain waves
breach at rivers bend
Related photo galleries:
Swimming Mountains – Craters of the Moon
Swimming Mountains – The Palouse