Yesterday a few flakes whirled through the air. TV and radio weather newscasts warned us to prepare for several days of heavy snow ~ soon.
By the time Creighton returned from gathering supplies, all the school districts in the greater metro area were closing, and we already had three inches of snow on the front yard…the trees…the ground. It fell nonstop, accumulating one flake at a time into the twilight. At bedtime there were seven inches on the deck railing.
Today Josie and I play!
In October, 1967, I was a freshman at the University of Washington. Mutual friends introduced Creighton to me ~ we clicked. On our first date he took me to the Farrells Ice Cream parlor in Bellevue. This fragile plastic giraffe was on top of my ice cream sundae. Forty-seven years later it remains a sweet reminder of our courtship and enduring love; a treasure only he and I understand.
Hunting mushrooms on Orcas Island, I came upon this pile of rope returning to earth.
As a student of Visual Arts at the University of Washington in the late 1960’s, I tried to capture the clash between the natural world. which was (and remains) my comfort zone, and the ever encroaching industrial complex. The only oil painting I still have from those days is of a dominant concrete retaining wall holding back the rolling freedom of Palouse hillsides. I also have a small brass and glass box I made, in which a Milkweed seed rests.
Fireweed
Chamerion angustifolium
On a neighborhood walk last autumn with my Beagle and camera, while Josie romped freely in the open field – right of way of the Bonneville Power Authority – I looked up.
Windows, like eyes, see in and out, offer changing views, weather news, a glimpse into and beyond right here and now, always inviting me to linger.
Gossamer Morning
What my windows look like from the inside is as important to me as what I look out upon, though only some of what is out there is mine to manage, and in winter it can appear pretty sad – yet – the underbrush I leave is habitat for birds and the dead leaves on the grounds provide nourishment and protection, so I let it be until spring greens nudge me into action.
foggy winter day
The fence behind this garden was built last fall when my neighbors also had an intrusive old Douglas Fir removed. It had provided shade over this southeast corner of the house and grounds. Knowing the sun will blaze into this window come summer, we are doing our research into solar shades. Looking at and through samples is imperative – even so, it is hard to decide. This will be preferable to the Venetian blinds that need replacing anyway. I’m leaning toward the one on the right.
solar shades
Justin, 7, catches a prize Mackinaw
In July 2011, my grandnephew Justin was 7 years old. He’d spent a whole week with his grandpa and grandma at their fishing campsite near Crescent Lake. This photo was taken just after Justin landed a prize Mackinaw Trout out of Odell Lake.
Photo credit to Diana Dunnington.
Crater Lake National Park is almost in my back yard; a mere 250 miles South. Last summer my sister took me around the entire perimeter and then down to the canyon floor to see the pinnacles. Maybe not Grand, as in Grand Canyon, but Grand as in Unusual and Special.
These towering needle-like formations of rock, called fossil fumaroles, projecting from the Sand Creek Canyon floor, were formed under sheets of volcanic pumice that preceded Mazama’s collapse.
As the surface of the hot pumice cooled over the years, steam and gases were released by the hot rocks underneath through vents and tubes that were welded into cement hardness by their passage. These ancient vents now stand alone due to the erosion of the surrounding softer materials.
As the world experiences severe weather, we in the Pacific Northwest have had a dose of record setting cold temperatures. Yesterday it was -9 degrees C, and this morning it was -10 C. The days are bright and sunny, though still very cold – barely got above freezing yesterday and we expect the same today. Here are some photos of my pond to set your teeth chattering!
When I first learned about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) pieces of the puzzle I had been trying to solve about myself fell into place. The theory helped explain why I would become ever more gloomy as winter approached, and conversely, increasingly animated when spring rolled around. SAD is brought on by the lack of bright light during the shortened days of winter, and is exacerbated by the frequently cloudy, rainy fall and spring months in the Pacific Northwest. Then I discovered Enviro Med Bio-lights were available in my own community, and immediately bought one for myself. It is amazing what a difference it makes in my emotional state of being. For many years while I was counseling, during the dark months I’d put my Bio-light up in the office at work. Soon colleagues started gathering around it for their morning coffee, and they always went off to first period a little more upbeat than they’d been before.
Now the Bio-light migrates to the top of my refrigerator when autumn leaves begin to fall. On dark days, I turn it on for an hour or less while I am doing kitchen chores or having breakfast. And, when the green buds of spring raise their faces to greet the sun, so will I. Having fulfilled its duties, the Bio-light will then be stored away until fall.
Lindy Low LeCoq 