Last hurrah?

The snow started falling just after midnight, and by morning, another two inches blanketed the ground.

I rolled over in the early morning hours, and DW said, "It's snowing." I think I must have already known, because my dreams all included snow. I think it was the dream about our neighbors cutting through our yard to avoid the deep drifts that finally woke me up.

With a mug of tea, I finished another Dick Francis book, then went out to the kitchen to do the dishes. And while looking out the windows at a snow-covered camellia, I noticed the snow was starting to drip.



So I went to find my big girl camera, slipped into down jacket and boots, and went out to record the snow. It might be the last snowfall this winter, and I don't want to miss the chance of a few more photographs.

I'm glad I did, because the snow was gone by noon.


Big tracks through the orchard


Daffodils swelling toward bloom


The birdfeeder covered in snow, surrounded by bird tracks

More white...

The windows look out over the old orchard and a wall of cedar trees, and the jewel in the crown is the barn red pump house, which protects the original well for my 1923 farmhouse.



In the corner is a woodstove that heats the house, a toasty place to stand and watch the snow fall. The tiny stained glass window has hung here almost as long as we've lived here. It was made by my dad in the colors of spring, with one deep red tulip.

The critter tracks keep multiplying... I can see where the deer have been moving from my neighbor's property across my orchard.



It's the second major snowfall this month, and this one dumped on the whole Puget Sound region. The peacefulness of my little patch of earth is a huge contrast with the chaos out on the roads and highways. I'm so glad to be at home.

First came the snow...

And then came the critters. Birds around the feeder, deer in the orchard, racoons and house cats on the porch. All day long, Madison sat on her tower in the window and kept watch. I don't know what she saw... I never saw anything but animal tracks.

February snow...

At 7:00 am it was 24 degrees and snowing, about 4 inches on the patio table, even deeper in the orchard. The wind always blows strong across the patio, between the house and the big cedar tree, and the snow is always shallower there. There are tracks on patio and deck, rabbit?

I settled Madison on the platform in the window and left her looking outside at a white world. It snowed all day long, heavy in the morning, stacking up fast... then tiny flakes, then heavy, then tiny again. But all day long, the snow built up.

Beautiful, sparkly, brilliant snow.

Family snow...

A day in the mountains (snow!!) is often how my sister chooses to spend her birthday, and this year, I tagged along. There were three generations in my sister's van, and we're going to spend the afternoon sliding down the hills at Stevens Pass.



Heading east on the ferry, out of the rain and into the snow


The nordic area at Stevens has lots of parking, warm bathrooms, and lots of sledding hills. We pulled on snow pants and more layers under warm jackets, and the kids were off and on the hill before we knew it.

This dog was dressed as warmly as I was!



My nephew is a snowboard instructor at Stevens Pass; he met us with a couple of cool snowskates that the little girls took to like ducks to water.







The day couldn't have been better: plenty of fresh snow, comfortable temperatures, lots of giggles and laughter.

I was glad of the hours spent in the snow, especially with my family. The way things are going, it might be the only snow play I will get this winter.

First snow...

It was so beautiful, driving over Stevens Pass this morning. After slogging through morning traffic to Bothell, then the back roads to Hwy 2, it was a relief to finally be heading east toward Leavenworth. We're visiting friends for a few days, and as we got a couple of miles from the summit, we drove right into heavy snow. It was my first real snow of the season, and I'm so glad we chose to take the higher pass.

The unexpected...

It rained and blew in town yesterday, but there was still plenty of blue sky, and the snowy mountains were spectacular. As we walked the streets, shopping and enjoying lunch at Deschutes Ale House, I couldn't help think about the parallels between weather and life. Living in the Northwest, that's a comparison you can draw nearly every day.

As we headed south toward the condo, another thing was clear: we were headed straight toward a wall of weather... snow. I couldn't stop smiling, because of all the other weather conditions we experienced today, only a good snowfall was missing.



The flakes were huge as we drove into Sunriver.












From the deck, I watched the snow fall through beams of sunshine. I'm used to rain and sun at the same time, it's common in the Northwest. But this was my first experience with snow and sun.

Winter barns...

It's snowed a half dozen times this winter (so far)... but the timing hasn't worked out at all for photographing my favorite barns with snow on the ground. To compensate for that lack (which I really feel), I've gone back to other years and other snowy landscapes, to remember some of my favorite winter scenes.

We weren't able to get to Ellensburg this winter, but in 2016 we spent a weekend with good friends, and before we drove back to the west side, I spent a few hours in a blizzard, photographing some of the farms south of town. I was the only one out on the roads, an experience I won't ever forget.











The falling snow blurs the edges, making photographs look like paintings.



Among the several hundred barns in the Kittitas Valley, many are decorated with painted quilt blocks. Kittitas County has the only designated barn quilt trail in the state of Washington.





The valley also has several intact historic homesteads, like this one west of town. I love barns, but exploring a place where old farmhouses still stand proud with their barns is so special.

Sharing my winter barns on The Barn Collective today.

Winter white...

The snow started in the early evening, and kept on all night. Each time I woke up and rolled over, I'd look outside to see the pasture and trees gradually turning white, and the night growing brighter. At 7:00 this morning, I dressed and pulled on my boots and grabbed my cell phone and a ruler. Eight inches... that's a lot for us on this side of the mountains.



It was too dark for my Nikon, so the cell phone had to do. Not venturing past the patio, I snapped some pictures of the cedar trees, weighed down with snow and touching the ground, and dwarfing the well house. And the orchard from the kitchen windows, with every branch outlined in white, and the camellia bush looking as soft as a cotton ball.



Schools were canceled and people stayed home from work, and when we went out to find a cache this afternoon, the roads were deserted (except for the cars that had slid into the ditch). Our pond has flooded our road and backed up into the pasture, and the snow has stolen all the sound from the world, leaving only silence.

To me, winter isn't a season without snow. And just snow falling isn't enough. It has to snow long and deep, and stay around for at least a few days. Long enough for the roads to clear, and safe enough to drive around, so I can see all my favorite places dressed in winter white.

Beginnings...

At the beginning of 2016, on the last day of a weekend spent with friends in Ellensburg, I headed out to take pictures before we headed for home. And found myself in the middle of a blizzard, flying solo with the Pilot and my camera, freezing my bones but finding some beautiful scenery.

It was really the first time I'd deliberately gone out in a winter storm, by myself. I don't have a track record with driving in the stuff, in spite of living on the cold side of the state for almost 8 years. But today was so beautiful, I decided to risk the roads and explore. My friends live in the midst of old farms and homesteads, some of my favorite subjects. But today I found more than my favorite old barns. Irrigation lines still connected, because the blizzard took the farmer by surprise. A herd of elk, eating hay with a herd of cattle. Draft horses with icicles in their tails. Yellow lichen-covered willow trees, blowing in the wind.

Photography in falling snow is new to me, and I have much to learn about light and white balance when there isn't much light, and the contrast is so extreme. But I had the roads to myself, and the world was magical, and even though I was chilled through, I didn't want to leave.

It hasn't snowed much this winter on the wet side of the state, but I am ever hopeful. We're at the beginning of a cold spell, and snow might be just around the corner. My fingers are crossed that scenes like this one will be possible, without having to travel a hundred miles from home.

Blue snow...

This homestead near Plain is one of my favorite spots, but I've never been there with so much snow on the ground. After breakfast and a stroll through Plain Hardware, I came back on my own with my camera. I followed footsteps and photographed the lovely barns.

The log home has been under restoration for a few years now, and finally it looks done.

I love how the bright blue sky reflects on snow and turns it blue... just as it does on a clear mountain lake.

Three signs of spring...

Spring in the Northwest: three separate hailstorms left the ground covered, with the sun shining through the cedars, past a rhododendron in full bloom.

Time to go chase winter...

A quiet day spent editing photographs, and working on a quilt. Then we met friends for a beer and dinner, and talked until late, catching up. No rain today, but it's warm. I'm beginning to think winter is over, and that's a shame. I need to pack up and follow the snow, before it's too late.

Lines...

Snow turns the most ordinary things into works of art... even this wheel irrigation line. It stands out against the white... every line, every curve. The snow highlights the basic composition of everything around it.

Farmlands in winter...

It was foggy this morning, but it hadn't snowed. So I grabbed my hoodie and my camera and headed down into the valley. As I drove down the hill, with fields spreading out to both sides, I was struck by how the most basic things stood out beautifully against the snow. Fence lines, clusters of farm buildings, the beautiful barns.

At the first turn on Riverbottom, I spotted the big elk herd that's been hanging around this stretch of the valley, and as I watched them, it began to snow.

So I headed back toward the house. I stopped occasionally to take photographs, trying out different settings, looking for the best way to capture the flat light and smooth fields of snow. This road hasn't been plowed or sanded, and it's slick and ridged with ice and snow. But I had the road to myself.

When I got to the corner, I wanted to turn right and keep driving through the valley. There are so many beautiful farms here, and so much I want to photograph. But the light is going as the snow gets thicker. In just a half hour, there's already an inch of snow on the road.

Just down the hill from the house, I stopped in the road to take pictures of a row of wind-sculpted willow trees, and again for my favorite red barn. It isn't old, like the hundreds of barns in this farming community. But I love the broken gable style, and it's beautifully tended.

I'll post more of my farmlands photos soon.

Waking to snow...

 I woke at 3:00 am, here on the east side. And it was snowing. When we all got up a few hours later, there was a flurry of coats and boots being pulled on, of locating keys, of dogs dashing out into the new white of the morning. The morning light in the snow was blue. The guys shifted SUVs so Bernie could get the John Deere out, and scrape three inches of snow off the parking area, and the driveway.

It snowed off and on all day. It was a welcome sight as we waited in line for Winterhop to begin, as past years have been bare and warm, or bitterly icy. In early afternoon, I took a break from beer and photographed some of my favorite 100-year-old brick buildings. I love the remnants of advertising signs, painted right on the brick.

Snowfall...

A good day. Up early for a shower, then a hot mug of tea by the fire. Maddie played and entertained, then Dave got up, asking, "Did you have breakfast?" Unfortunately, he got up three hours after I did. So, yes, I had already had breakfast.

So we did the next best thing: caught up on e-mail and internet news and laundry, then went out for a geocache in the snow, along the Green River Road in Auburn. We ended up in downtown, just a block away from the Irish pub we like. They were open, and there was a curbside parking spot, no denying that bit of good luck. When we walked in, the Seahawks game was on; Perfect! We snagged a corner booth, checked out the the beers on tap, and both ordered a Jolly Roger. Boy, did that bring back memories of winters past, getting together with good friends and drinking Jolly or Jubelale or Snow Cap while catching up. Today we had a late lunch, watched the Seahawks game, and watched the snow fall.

No one expected snow today, and I loved this completely unexpected weather event.

Surrounded by snow...

This is what I want for Christmas...  simple and pure and white. Just a few inches of snow, so I can make a snowman and enjoy the view out my windows.

I don't need this much snow, though... back in January 2012, there was enough snow to use as a wine chiller!

Snow is all around us this week:  up north in Snohomish County, throughout the Cascades to the east, and west in the Olympics.

But whatever the weather where you are, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas!

In the bleak midwinter

When the December days turn cold and dark and icy, I always think of this Christmas song. It is, and always has been, my favorite. The melody is haunting, and the lyrics are perfect as we hover on the brink of winter. 

A lot of musicians have made this song their own, including James Taylor and Sarah MacLachlan and Shawn Colvin. But my favorite version is the one on Windham Hill's Winter Solstice III, sung by Pierce Pettis. It is absolutely, perfectly beautiful.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow.

In the bleak mid-winter, long ago.

...

What then can I give him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

And if I were a wise man, I would do my part,

Yet what I can I give him, I will give my heart.

The lyrics come from a poem by English poet Christina Rossetti,
written prior to 1872. It was set to music by Gustav Holst,
and became part of the English hymnal in 1906.

Snowglobe...

Snow, the first snow of the season, is falling. I always look forward to this day each winter... more so now that I don't worry about the roads, and getting to work without slipping on ice.

But I did not expect this. Getting up in the dark this morning, grabbing my sweats and slippers, and noticing how very white it was outside the windows. I peeked through the blinds, and the front pasture was covered in white. It was too dark to tell whether it was frost or snow, but I opened up the blinds and lit a fire, and sat back to watch.

It was 33 degrees out, chilly enough. And as the temperature began to fall, so did the snow. Huge billowy flakes of the stuff, thicker and thicker as daylight arrived. The wind arrived, too... at times I felt like I was inside a huge snowglobe, with my pastures and woods and farmhouse snugly inside of it.