Here are some recent photos I took in Pine Stree Woods. The days were not great, overcast and gray. Still there is a bit of fall color and it was fun to play with some black and white. These were taken by an old camera that I have resurrected the
Soft sodden air of the twilit forest Snap of fallen drops, formed of mist and pines Rain-blackened trunks parade down-slope Pale bleached-yellow of fern Like spirits of their brown bracken brothers Wraiths of mist hang and sweep through the rain-dark trees Flash of white, a pause, ghostly gray The deer
As a measure of transparency; I have started to use AI (Microsoft Co-pilot) in my sparse writing attempts. I am limiting it to editing functions like spelling, grammar, and punctuation. Sometimes it adds Em-dashes. I am not using it for the writing itself but more like a professional editor. So
Introduction History is usually made from what is known, events, people, facts. Much of history is obscured by secrecy; shame, embarrassment, or state secrets obscure much of what we know of history. It's these small secrets obscured by time and the deaths of the small number of participants
A great way I have of finding interesting books at my favorite bookstore (Bonner’s Books in Bonner’s Ferry Idaho) is to look for books with old bindings like cloth or leather. My best finds have been in the travel section. The classics or near classics are easy enough
We walked the tightly packed gravel road through cottonwood, paper birch, and poplar trees. Their leaves ranged from lemon to mustard to egg-yolk yellow, forming a canopy and tunnel of color this fall afternoon. The air smelled of rotting leaf mold and wet ground—a soft, sweet scent of the
A sudden slap in the water near the distant shore with expanding circles of ripples revealing the location. The Green river slipped silently below the bank where we perched. Inching down the far canyon walls the rising sun cast a warm light. Where the river ran over its rough bottom
I am a child of the American West, actually the Southwest. Having grown up in Arizona I am used to that arid land. A love of mountains, desert, clear mountain streams, volcanoes, red sandstone sculpture, ghost towns, ancient Indian ruins, Native Americans, Mexican Americans. The culture of the West still
I had just squeezed the handle on the pump and set the latch when I glanced behind me to see this tall thin older man looking over my trailer. I said 'Hi' and he remarked what an unusual trailer. I agreed and he continued with this slow drawl
I could discern some very low noted booming which alarmed me. Was there a rock fall? Almost imperceptibly the water in the cascade seemed to slow. I didn’t believe my senses at first and kept looking to confirm what I was seeing. Then it was obvious the water had
We drove for two hours under the deep blue Montana October sky across the dun colored sagebrush. Sected and bisected by fence. The valley a brown blonde exhausted grass of summer’s end. Sagebrush rimmed the valleys and its teal green draped over hillsides. Teeming in the lowest place was
Whenever we head out on a roadtrip we often take the Road to the Buffalo east out of town. We live along the Road to the Buffalo. The local Indians were various tribes of the inland Salish language group. They lived by hunting and gathering and some farming as well
I squeeze though the rotting stile, the dog went under the peeled pine rail. Back on the lead and we walk the gravelled track. Barbed wire on our right and infinite flat blonde grass on the left. Dotted with black cows, their faces swivel not to me but towards my
Warning this is a technical photography post. I bought a Sandisk Extreme Portable SSD for use with my Fuji GFX 100s ii. This is my experience with it. Mine supports USB 3,2 Gen 2 (10Gbps) and this is the maximum the camera supports. Buying an SSD with a higher
We had travelled a long day. A late start as Mollie was not well. She awoke at 4:00am in distress some stomach ache she gets occasionally. Something she ate perhaps. All she wants is cuddles and belly rubs to soothe her. So the morning was the delirious in an
He is younger than I am now Hunched over his rod Eyes focused on the water Intent and unaware his photo is being taken. He seems so small I see in him my dad, my brother, and myself September 1984, I am in college He and my mother living their
Late this afternoon Families talk, hear a tune Plink of banjo, thump of bass Woodsmoke, summer's sweetness does erase A warm afternoon breeze We watch as sunlight flees Mornings form cool and dry Geese arpeggio across the sky Pine cones husky drop Plums purple where they plop Apples
The struggle had, I suppose, been going on all morning but I was unaware of it at the time. The water's cold current pressing relentlessly against my legs and hips. The water whose surface was a dark green reflected from the forest on this overcast Oregon Saturday. The
There it sits framed in the black screen In a darkened office quiet as a nave A ghostly gray vase of muscle Shown in cross-section And inside a delicate flower is nestled The petals rushing open and fluttering shut Not so much like a flower as the wings of a
Scintillating, 10,000 crickets thrumming throbbing sound, Sing down the day and bring the night around The pleading stars reflect their cries Even as the twilight dies Each breath smells of pine from heat of summer day Made harsh with smoke of burning forest twenty miles away A river of
A warm September evening and Mollie and I are up at Pine Street Woods. It is just past sunset with the air cooling. A faint hint of woodsmoke has returned after the cleansing rain of the other night’s thunderstorms. The hills to the west have a robin’s egg
She draws the delicate mist about her Like a shy courtesan she hides her face And watches when she thinks we are not watching Revealing when our attentions are turned Then is stolen away again by the jealous clouds
We met a nomad. She was our camp host though she didn’t come to introduce herself until we were about to leave. She said she thought she should introduce herself and mentioned she liked our trailer (an Escapod Topo 2 teardrop which does get a lot of comments). A
weminuche wilderness
A bright flash followed by a sputtering orange light that incandesced, guttered, and extinguished as the sharp crack of thunder bellowed through the forest. For that moment the tent felt like lying inside an electric lamp as it burned out. The rain, at first tip taps on the nylon, now