Last week I laid out a plan to pontificate on Pacific Northwest trees, a storied appreciation of the most prominent of plants. I offered up experiences with the red alder, those ever-cycling nutrient bombs, the first wave. What comes after? Well, by design or chance… Read More
Truth be told, I’ve been having a difficult time writing lately. I’ve felt spectacularly prosaic, and without anything worth discussing. I’ve been remarkably unsatisfied with the process and the outcome. There’s excuses coming out of my ears. But, mainly it boils down to depression about… Read More
I stare across at the mountains often; seeing adventure, seeing wilderness, seeing an escape from traffic. The jagged horizon of the high places, seen from the East, looks pasted up, a green screen across the water. Crossing the inland see between us, the surreal aspect… Read More
As an annual tradition, I go back through the previous year’s photos and revisit the experiences past, contemplate the now, and plan for the future. Sometimes I do it right away, just as the dust has settled in the first week of January. Sometimes I… Read More
From where we stood, the wide valley opened into the nothingness of low slung clouds. If brought here blindfolded, aside from a couple hints, I would’ve not known the location, other than a river valley in the Pacific Northwest. The give away was the river… Read More
“The sea is a really nice thing, isn’t it?” “Yeah, it is. Makes you feel calm.” “Why is that?” “Probably because it’s so empty, with nothing on it” Hoshino said, pointing. “You wouldn’t feel so calm if there was a 7-eleven over there, or a… Read More
Forming habits around my creative work is always a boon. So, I figure that since I did this last year, I might as well do it again. Some of the photos may be redundant from previous posts but my guess is that most won’t notice… Read More
The pine whites speckled the treetops like lofty snowflakes. If you don’t look up, you might miss them. Their peak in numbers, while beautiful in it’s regularity also signaled the annual failing of summer. Several weeks after they’d swarmed the tips of the Douglas firs,… Read More
Sometimes the birds just don’t want to cooperate. Sure, I could hear many but I couldn’t see a damn thing. Down the slope of Hurricane Ridge I was squinting across, only six trees were likely candidates for a Olive-sided Flycatcher I could hear pipping away,… Read More
Wingtrip 