Scene and story... December 2016

To me, winter was always the season to spend indoors, reading and sewing, sitting by the fire with a cat on my lap. And maybe I'd get some of those chores done... like cleaning out closets.

There were years when spending time outdoors in the winter was required, and I got used to being cold all day when we skied, and cold when I had a horse, and exercising the beast was a requirement no matter how cold or rainy or snowy it got.

But that changed in August of 2015, when we decided to go out to find a geocache every day, until we hit 500 days in a row. Now I find myself going out in all kinds of weather, and I look forward to it for much more than just that one geocache.

A day in December brought that home in a big way. DW and I started the day with a walk on a section of the Snoqualmie Valley trail near Preston. The morning was foggy and beautiful, and the trail beckoned me to come explore. We found our geocache, and as I turned to follow DW back to the Pilot, the early morning light took my breath away. I dropped everything to grab my camera and record this scene.

The rest of the day we explored the back roads, and were treated to stunning views of the Cascades dressed in the season's first real blanket of snow.

. . . . .

My friend, Sarah, has a new linkup on her blog, Paisley Rain Boots. Each month, we'll post a photograph from the previous month, and write a bit about it. This is mine.

I should, but...

It's been a common refrain lately. There are things to do at home, but there are hikes to do and caches to find, and views to chase with the camera. Today over breakfast I suggested going over the pass to do a string of challenge caches high up above Lake Kachess, and see what else we can find. So that's what we did.

It was cloudy today, so there weren't any wonderful views. the last time we headed up this road, we didn't get far before being turned back by deep snow. The snow is gone now, and we were able to drive all the way to the Rampart Ridge trailhead, one of our favorite hikes. Today we didn't do any hiking, just stopped to enjoy the wildflowers and the views before working our way back down to I-90 and home.

Hawthorn

In my front pasture are beautiful shrubby trees that flower pink and white in the spring. It took a trip to Ireland to learn that they're hawthorn bushes.

In Ireland, we saw hedges made from stone, and hedges made from living, growing shrubbery and trees. In early June, we were lucky enough to see the hawthorn hedges in full bloom.

As we drove north along the western coast, we saw a lot of farmland enclosed by these hedges, and our guide told us quite a bit about the lore of the hawthorn in Ireland. There are many traditions. Once it was believed that the hawthorn was sacred to the fairies, and that fairy spirits inhabited the trees. On the first of May, young women would wear a sprig of hawthorn blossom tucked in their bodice, in hopes of attracting a husband. It was believed that keeping a thorn from a hawthorn in your tackle box would guarantee a good catch. And that planting a hawthorn near a house would protect it from storms and lightning strikes.

Even today, some of those traditions linger. It is still believed to be bad luck to cut down a hawthorn tree that is standing alone, and as we passed hedgerows that were being pruned, it was clear that the hawthorns were left strictly alone.

I'm not a superstitious person, but those pink and white hawthorns in my front pasture? They're welcome to stay right where they are, and grow as much as they want.

Landscapes...

Earth and sky, woods and fields, 
lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, 
are excellent schoolmasters, 
and teach some of us more 
than we can ever learn from books.  
John Lubbock

Where the Rockies meet the plains, north of Waterton Lakes National Park

It's what I miss... crave... the most, living on the outskirts of a big city. Those sweeping landscapes you see when you get out and away, over the mountains. Those places where you can look back and see the huge sky, the towering peaks. Wave after wave of dark evergreens flowing down the river valleys toward open grassland, where the wild things graze.

Looking toward the Anthony Lakes Wilderness, from OR-7

It's why I keep going out on the road, in search of those vistas that fill me up like a glass that's full to overflowing, spilling over the rim. Filling me with wonder and delight, with absolute joy. With peace.

Colorado aspens, between Ridgway and Telluride

I've been reading a lot of landscape photography blogs lately, getting inspiration from amazing photographers like John Clement and Jason Savage and Michael Frye, among others.

Heading into winter, when access to my favorite landscapes will be buried in snow, it's a time to dream about other back roads, other places. A time to plan. Next year, a workshop with one of these photographers is definitely on my bucket list.

Let the light shine through...

Some would crop the leaf cluster at the top of the frame. But for me, 

it hints at much more color in this beautiful maple tree, so I kept it.

This morning it was 33 degrees, with frost in the pasture that slopes down to the pond. There's plenty of firewood to keep the farmhouse warm, and a cat on the bed. But I got up anyway. Eight ducks have moved onto the pond, swollen to normal size after days and days of rain. I'm loving the earlier sunrise... more daylight for this morning person. The rising sunlight through our neighbor's maples makes them look like stained glass, green and gold and red against our dark green cedar trees.

Against the wind...

I spotted this beautiful yacht out past Deception Island at the western end of the passage, while we were walking across the Deception Pass bridge.

You can just see the tall mast of the sailboat, to the right of the small island.

By the time we'd walked under the far end of the bridge, and were walking back on the other side, the boat was halfway through. I stood there and watched as the boat braved the current and eddies, making quick work of the hazards, and coming safely out the other side.

I felt like cheering as I watched it pass safely around Strawberry Island.

Isn't the water the most beautiful color? 

Full circle...

A long day of driving: Portrush to Belfast, then back to Dublin.

In Belfast, we took a turn around the city, looking at political murals of Shankill and Falls Road. Then we met a local guide at the Titanic museum, to learn about the industrial era and the Titanic, built in Belfast's shipyard in 1911.

A metal strip on the pavers between the Titanic exhibits and the water marks the spot where Titanic once sat in dry dock, next to her sister ship, Olympic.

Titanic on the left, Olympic on the right.

Our local guide has a personal connection to Titanic: her grandfather worked in the shipyards, and in an effort to improve his fortunes, decided to take a position on board Titanic and sail to New York on her maiden voyage. She gave us a tour of the building where the ships were designed, and where the draftsmen worked. We were one of the last groups to tour this building. It and others along the wharf will become part of a new hotel. Personally, I think that's a shame. This beautiful building, with its soaring roof and skylights, is a part of the history of the Titanic, and should be preserved.

After the Titanic exhibit, Dave and I returned to the city center for lunch, then spent an hour exploring the Belfast City Hall. Its soaring rotunda and stained glass make it a spectacular place to visit.

Then we settled in for the long drive back to Dublin, and our last night together. With no stops, I snapped through the coach windows. This blurry shot of the green Irish countryside reminds me that Ireland would be a great place to paint. My dad would have loved it.

Tomorrow at breakfast we'll say goodbye to most of our group, but a few of us are staying on in Dublin for a few more days.

Amber waves (TT)

A simple day calls for a simple image. I love how the texture makes this photograph look like a painting.

Vast fields of wheat in the Finley Hills

For Texture Tuesday, this image has a layer of Kim Klassen's Appreciate texture @ 80% multiply

Perspective....

Sometimes you get the best look at the sunset when you look toward the east.

Rolling hills of the Palouse at sunset, October 2011

Surrounded by trees...

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness

- John Muir

From the archives, November 2011 | The northern slope of Tiger Mountain above the tiny mill town of Preston, the morning after (and during) the first snowfall of the season. Cottonwood and alder and maple merge into the evergreens like a green and gold crazy quilt, and where the trees disappear into the clouds, it's snowing.

Lone trees...

We drove out north of town yesterday for a yard sale, where Dave helped the owner get his new lawn tractor started, and shared a source of inexpensive parts with the guy who bought the old mower.

During all the guy talk, I hung on the fence and enjoyed the cold spring morning, then spotted this tree. I've been looking for lone trees, those that grow out by themselves, to make perfect specimens of their type.

There are a lot of willow trees in the Kittitas Valley, and this one was beautiful against the blue sky of a spring morning.

Sunrise...

The day dawned clear with cloudy streaks, and stayed that way long enough to show how glorious a sunrise can be... pink and blue stripes and an ocean of waves that stretched across the sky. Then the sunrise vanished, and the grey skies closed ranks.

It will rain today, but I won't mind. I saw the sun rise.

Open range

We spent a lot of time, and miles, in open range on our road trip. We saw more deer and elk near the roadways than cattle, but were always on the lookout for anything with four legs. Especially moose, once we arrived on the west side of the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone. And ironically, in that country, the high country of eastern Idaho, we found that moose... but also found more cattle on roadways than anywhere else on our trip.

East of Island Park there's a long back road that leads to Cave Falls, and an unexpected back door into Yellowstone National Park. I lost track of the number of times we had to slow down to shoo cattle off the road, sort of a Pilot-as-cowboy move that had us in stitches.

This country speaks to me, the high grasslands and rocky mountains of the West, and I've grown to love its scenery. There are enough trees to keep the landscape green and interesting, but enough open land to let you see for miles.

Being there reminded me of a friend from the Tri-Cities. Chris grew up on the western side of the Cascades, and loves the trees and mountains and sheer green of western Washington. But he prefers the east side of the state. "Trees are beautiful," he always said. "But not when they get in the way of the view."

The high road...

You'll see it south of the freeway between Prosser and Benton City. A road cut that goes from the valley floor up the side of the high ridge, angling ever-upwards, until it disappears over the top. The view north toward Rattlesnake Mountain is spectacular. What you don't see is the road continuing west along the back side of the ridge, looking south and east over the endless wheat fields of the Horse Heaven Hills, all the way to the wind farm above the Wallula Gap.

The views are well worth the drive, but they aren't the whole story. Keep on going west on the gravel road, and you can climb up a rough road to a nest of satellite dishes and radio towers at the highest point on the ridge. Park there and walk out to the edge, but carefully. From here, the Yakima River valley is spread out at your feet, and you can look east along the road cut and see the sheer basalt cliffs you just drove along. It's all quite spectacular, and worth the drive.

We didn't come up here for the view today. We came to grab the series of geocaches placed all along the road. It was cold and windy today, and a bit creepy in spots along the road. At one point I stayed behind while Dave climbed the hill to find a cache, and the wind blew so hard I could hear the gravel rattle as it blew down the road. I finally had to close my eyes... I could feel the sharp edges of vertigo every time the wind shook the Pilot.

It turned out to be my third best caching day: we found 100 caches. And as we inched down a very steep and rocky shortcut road back to pavement, I reached another milestone: my 3000th geocache find.

Aspens on Blue Mesa

On the road again Day 7 | Blue Mesa

We left Dee at home to watch football, and headed back up to Blue Mesa. The weather has turned damp and cold, and I'm so glad I packed my down jacket. Today we're going to retrace yesterday's route south to the reservoir, then take a scenic drive that goes along the north rim of the Black Canyon, with overlooks where we can walk out to the edge, hold our breath and look down... way, way down to the river.

We've seen a lot of aspen groves on our trip so far, like brush strokes of green and yellow, orange and red across a canvas of grey rock and evergreen. As the days go by, the colors change and intensify and grow more beautiful.

After leaving the canyon, the road goes for miles through remote ranch land and high meadows, heading north then west. We drove for miles without seeing another car. We came through a couple of small towns, Maher and Crawford and Hotchkiss. There weren't any antique shops or wineries open today. Bummer... we saw a couple of intriguing ones.

Hot summer days...

Another hot day; I've lost track of how many there have been, but I'm not complaining. The warmth feels good.

Nine yummy books came in for me at the library, landscape photography mostly, plus a couple of books on the best places to photograph the beauty of my home state. A brand-new book on this subject is on order through the library, and I'll get one of the first copies.

The 90 degree day drove me downstairs again... a good day to work in the wine cellar. We stored wine for friends while they built their retirement home, and now that empty space is just begging to be filled. Dave's Mayer Cellars wines will go there as soon as I assemble a new rack for them.

Natalie and Anton cooked dinner for us; they head for Alaska in the morning and will be gone until the end of September. While they're gone, we'll work on our bathroom remodel projects... starting with the cabin. I'll do just about anything to get back to the lake, even learn basic plumbing and electrical skills.

After dinner, I wrote for a while, and edited photographs. I love this view of an oxbow lake near Fall City... still and calm and peaceful on a hot summer day.

Idaho back roads

I never found the time to write much about our Idaho road trip in May 2013. Too busy getting ready for a visit from my sister & brother-in-law, and when they left us in September, I just didn't get back to it. It seems a shame somehow, not to mention this beautiful place, this wild place, this place that stole a piece of my heart.

So here are my favorite views, my favorite places, in the wild places of Central Idaho.

The tire-eating road north of Sun Valley, with snow still on the ridges and ice in the streams.

Coming back from Salmon, I spotted a moose grazing by the river. I watched it, it watched me

Mountain pass and fly fishing stream on the drive to Red Fish Lake, where we watched a big crew unload tanker trucks of fish into the inlet to the lake.

In the wind...

The constant wind must have been a challenge to the people who placed the geocaches in the wheat fields above Kennewick. We've had our eye on these power trails for a couple of years, and it was great fun to come here for a few days, to this place we called home for more than seven years.

We used to bring our dog up here to run free, and we'd forgotten how exposed it is. Rolling hills, but the wind doesn't care about that. It finds a way around. In every direction there are fields being plowed for planting, interspersed with brilliant green fields of wheat and potatoes and peas. Beautiful, but exposed. To sun, to amazing views, and especially, to endless wind.

We found containers under rock cairns, and half-blown out of guardrails. We found containers in holes in the ground, coated in dirt, with a hunk of wood on top. We found containers stuck into pipes too heavy to blow away, and film cans wired to signposts. We also found containers being guarded by big hairy black spiders with white spots, and by even bigger (but harmless) black beetles. It became a habit to poke at the containers with the end of my pen before putting my hand anywhere near them.

My hair blew into tangles, and I almost lost my hat countless times. And once I had to wrap my arms around a signpost to keep from blowing away, while holding onto the container and trying to sign the logs. It made me giggle.

Yesterday a storm blew through and it rained. Today the air was crystal clear, and the views from the Finley hills were gorgeous.