prose

Haibun

#610 – October 2026

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While at the coast, I met Tommy. Tommy is a black lab.

I also met Ted, Tommy’s friend. They were on the beach and Ted was throwing a ball with one of those ball launchers. The other arm was in a sling, one that I recognized. It was similar to a sling I had worn when I had shoulder surgery.

Ted mentioned that he had shoulder surgery, but had chosen not to get his bicep tendon reattached. He took off his sling to show me his detached bicep. I noticed a sadness in his voice when he talked about this. He opened up because I had told him about my own tendon repair and how it took nine months to recover.

During our conversation, Tommy was running around the beach, in and out of the water, losing the ball, finding the ball. All the while our conversation went from Labradors to shoulders, to biceps, to what lay ahead.

I mentioned that Melissa and I were going to visit our grandkids in a couple of weeks. He brightened and said he had chosen not to have the tendon reattached so he could recover quickly and hold his grandkids sooner.

Color photograph of a starfish tangle is seaweed on the sand. It is cropped we see only part of the starfish
Sand: Day 4
entangled/tossed by the waves/a flower blooms

#610 – October 2026 View/comment on post

Haibun

#608 – October 2026

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On the third day of our trip to the Oregon Coast, Melissa, my in-laws, and I paid a visit to Pacific City. We’d come here to do some grocery shopping and get a bite to eat. It was between the grocery shopping and lunch that we decided to walk down and check out the tide pools.

Walking through the parking lot on our way to the beach, my eye was caught by a small dog on a leash tethered to the handle of a car. Behind the car, a couple was firing up a Coleman stove on the car’s trunk. The dog looked very much like a toy Pomeranian. This, of course, reminded me of our Pomeranian and good friend for 17 years, Pepsie.

I wandered over to say hello. During our conversation, I found out they were from the Seattle area. When I said I was from Pullman, Washington, one of them mentioned they had grown up in Pullman, a wonderful connection. We also bonded over the joy of Pomeranians.

The conversation turned toward how good it is being on the coast. This always seems to come up in conversations with people I meet on the coast. I find it difficult to put words to the salty air, the waves, fog rolling in and rolling out, and the gulls.

Constant motion. One can’t put a finger on it: the air, the waves, the fog, and the gulls. It is always in motion. No room for a pause and yet there you are.

As I was talking to the couple and pondering this, there was their toy Pomeranian, spinning, jumping on my shins, always in motion with a smile and that Pomeranian energy. The ocean is like this, constantly expressing itself, in each moment, woven into all that is happening in our lives.

Seaweed spread across horizontally in long thin vertical lines by the ocean waves as the tide goes out. The sand dry. The long verticle line are like Japanese music written for shakuachi.
Sand: Day 3
across the sea-/a melody's soft breath/written by the tide!

#608 – October 2026 View/comment on post

Haibun

#596 – September 2026

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When driving home in the early evening from Moscow to Pullman, I prefer to take the airport road. It is a slower drive than the main highway. I take my time driving the 35 mph speed limit with the local airport on one side and the Palouse hills on the other. This evening while coming around a  corner, I saw her appear in the review mirror bathed in light and shadow. Arriving home, I  grabbed my binoculars and tripod to get a closer look. From the driveway, I gazed at the filtered light on her surface. In the silence, I wondered why no one was out looking at this celestial wonder when from the darkness came a neighbor’s voice, “Beautiful, isn’t it?“

Color photograph of an eclipse of the moon, the moon shadow is red shading most of the moon. The photo is taken through binoculars with on side curved to black, the other fades to black. There are a few stars and the silhouette of the tip of a pine tree.
who stands between/from the moon's point of view/eclipse of the sun

#596 – September 2026 View/comment on post

Haibun

#579 – July 2026

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On a recent paddleboard trip, my plan was to be off the lake by 11 AM, before the afternoon wind picked up. After a paddle on Chatcolet  Lake and Round Lake, we headed toward the park at Rocky Point. By then the wind had come up, and crossing the open water became a struggle. I checked my watch. We had been on the lake for 2 1/2 hours and were only halfway through with the trip.

I imagine my days at home are much like this. I wake each morning with a list already taking shape, certain I know how much I can fit into a day. Then come the delays, interruptions, and unexpected turns. By noon I’m behind the schedule I imagined.

Color photograph of a broken off wooden pole in the middle of a lake in breeze driven waves. From it grows a sprout of green Marsh Cutweed.

#579 – July 2026 View/comment on post

City Life, Nature Life

June 13th – 17th, #190

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Day 1

Melissa and I traveled to Tierra Del Mar on the Oregon Coast. Tierra Del Mar is a small community north of Pacific City. We have made several trips to the coast together and I have made many more before we met. We were to meet family, but as happens, in the last minute, plans change. After picking up the key and a light dinner, we arrived at the house in the evening twilight. I parked and turned the key.  The engine’s vibrations settled to hum, then quiet. We walked to the the beach.

sunset waves, I blink
in the dark a stretching yawn 
in still winds, I dream

Day 2

After breakfast we walked north along the beach. We were looking for a trailhead that would take us on a loop through a Sitka forest. We found the trailhead and headed in. On  the trail we met a lady who was a distressed.  She asked us if we’d seen a tall man in his 80’s, in a blue shirt, wearing hearing aids.  They had been separated for about half an hour.  We insisted on helping and came up with a plan to split up. We followed the loop in opposite directions with a plan to reconnect.  I had only walked a short distance before I ran across a man fitting the description.  Although he was a bit anxious, he was proudly holding two chanterelle mushrooms (which I later found out it was a rare find for the time of year).  We reunited.  I was relieved that he was okay. We talked for sometime about life on the coast and how to prepare Chanterelle’s and Samphire.

the morning fog lifts 
forest floor dappled in sun
hands lightly holding

Day 3

A walk on the beach. We take off our shoes, splashing our feet in the water.  The morning has left me with sense of appreciation. In this state, I find myself in awe as witness to the life beneath my feet, life in each step walking along this little stretch of water and land.

on delicate cycle
splashing then a tumble dry
toes play in the surf

Day 4

Day 5

For the most part, over the years, traveling to the coast has been a getaway from everyday life that turned into a feeling of dread on the return home. Today, the getting ready, the time at the coast, the returning home, are feeling as  part of the same experience. Maybe it was the small fish, washing up in the waves, then swimming back to the sea in the receding waves, over and over and over again, switching direction in one swift motion. I wonder why I make the things I want to get away from so big and and powerful when all they are waves and here I am swimming up down this narrow strip of my existence, over and over and over.

we start our way home 
rain falling -the fisherfolk 
head out to sea

June 13th – 17th, #190 View/comment on post

City Life, Nature Life

June 15th, #188

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Melissa and I pulled into the parking lot at the Nestucca Bay National Wildlife Refuge. It was a planned stop on our way to Lincoln City to shop at the outlet mall, a convenience we don’t have in the small town we live in: brand names, a number of choices, good prices. 

The parking lot was empty and a light rain began to fall.  We packed up a bit of food and water and our raincoats. Before hiking in the hill, we stopped at the posted map to get our bearings. The trail meandered its way through a few trees which opened up to another meadow where we found two deer grazing. 

The deer looked toward us.

Melissa and I looked toward them.

The rain stopped, the rain started, I was not sure how many times.

The deer lowered their heads and continued to graze.

We turned our heads and continued our hike and entered forest.

under the canopy
on one side of the trail
sitting on a felled tree

Getting up from the bench, we entered the store.

While browsing the shirt rack my eyes glance up.

Two other shoppers, their eyes glance up.

We shared a causal conversation, not sure how long.

They lowered their eyes and continued shopping.

I lowered my eyes, sliding a few shirts hangers along the rail. 

I purchased a shirt and a pair of hiking pants and joined Melissa. As we were leaving the store, a shopper heading in held the door open for us.  Melissa and I both shared a thank you. Before moving on, we made our way to our car in the overflow parking lot to drop off our purchases.

the canopy hums
on the trail holding her hand-
raindrops on stained glass

June 15th, #188 View/comment on post

City Life, Nature Life

Late December, #143

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1.

water flow crossing
shy of the stone walk below
finds a spot to rest

2.

Leaving the building after the photo shoot, I am not sure why I did it. It was spontaneous.
On the table a bowl of mints. 
The wrappers made a scraping sound as I shoved the handful of them into my coat pocket.

I walked back to the office and on arrival I removed my snow boots and hung my coat.
I sat down and proceeded to upload the photographs on the hard drive for a later edit.
I answered  a few emails and instant message requests.
I warmed up lunch.

Putting on my coat, I and headed out for walk downtown.
The snow still falling.
I came upon a person shoveling the walk.
Passing him I said, “Thank You.”
He said “What?”
I said, “Thank you for clearing the walk. Would you like a mint?” (I had just put my hand in my pocket and found them).
He said, “No.”
I pulled the mints out and held them in my hand.
A couple of the mints had red and green stripes.
He said, “I like candy canes.”
I held out my hand and he took one, thanking me.
We continued on our way to the scrapping sound of the shovel.

3.

above the tree tops
in the tree shadows -raindrops
waxing and waining

Late December, #143 View/comment on post

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