Crescent Creek Dawn
Crescent Creek flows into Crescent Lake which is 5000 ft. above sea level at the summit of the Cascade Mountains in Oregon, USA. This photo was taken with a Panasonic Lumix DMCfZ47 camera using the indoor sports setting. It captures the flowing water and also the soft light of dawn rising behind me shining on the grasses and lifting a mist from the creek and land. Other than straightening the image I made no additional adjustments to this photo.
He still asks me why I waited for him that first date when he was twenty minutes late. I sat in the lobby of the all-female dorm, sure he would show. At eighteen, I’d never been stood up in my life. Finally I saw him dash out of a new, blue VW Bug, and rush through the glass doors to greet me with profuse apologies.
Lindy & Creighton
September 13, 1969
Why did I wait? Because the first time I looked into his bright blue eyes, I fell in; I knew in my bones this was real and for keeps. Forty-six years later he is still my soulmate, my darlin‘ companion.
Creighton
The American Goldfinch is the state bird of Washington, and a lovely addition to any landscape. In late spring – early summer (breeding time) the adult male is a brilliant yellow with sharp lines of white and black feathers.
Adult Male American Goldfinch
The adult female is a demure lighter yellow. Two years ago I had no Goldfinch visiting my gardens. Thanks to the advice of my dear sister Diana, I added feeders and food that attract them. Now I have two breeding pair, and some fledges. They are not keen to share feeders with other breeds and are also flighty around movement. I was able to snap this series of shots because I had been sitting still with my camera at the ready for some time. Another joy of being in retirement.
Fledglings have been appearing at my feeders for some time now. Their parents coax them into the Holly tree, then bring a morsel of seed or suet. There’s always a kerfluffle in the Holly branches as the fledges vie for first dibs. I am fascinated at how patient the adult birds are as they show their offspring how to feed themselves. After the safety of the Holly branches, the fledges enter the feeder domain.
Chestnut Back Chickadee chick perched atop the suet feeder.
Adult Chestnut Back Chickadee feeding fledgling.
More steady on their wings than their legs, landing in the right place is an iffy proposition. Soon they figure it out, and fly over to try their luck at the feeders.
Chestnut Back Chickadee fledgling
Designed to keep squirrels out, the enclosed suet feeder also provides a safe place where the little ones can get their land legs and feast on high energy food.
Baby Bush Tit and CB Chickadee size one another up.
Bush Tit and Chestnut Back Chickadee fledges feeding on suet.
By the next day the fledges appear to be getting the hang of it!
In a fight for survival the late arriving American Goldfinch have taken control of the Pagoda bird station. Chickadees and Nuthatches who wintered over in the area filed a complaint with the owners sighting their ‘squatter’s rights.’
“We’ve been here every day entertaining you through rain and freezing cold. What gives these sassy Goldfinch the right to horn in on our favorite feeder? It’s the best grub around. We demand and deserve first dibs.”
A spokesperson for the demur Goldfinch read a statement asserting the right of all birds to use the preferred feeder.
“Those Chickadees are such whiners with their chickadee-dee-deeing all day long, just like the fancy-pants Nuthatches out there yank-yank-yanking away in the branches, acting like they own the forest. Jeez – they all just need to get over it. The Goldfinches have as much right to rule that Pagoda feeder as anyone else – maybe more since they haven’t mooched off the place all winter long.”
A meeting between representatives of all concerned parties will be held later this week. The arbiter expects a long and bitter rivalry. Meanwhile, the owner intends to keep all the feeders full and fresh.
“It is nesting time, after all.” She offered, while snapping photos of the contenders.
Who doesn’t love watching a beautiful butterfly? They flit and float, land on flowers to sip, lift and fly away on gossamer wings. From brightly colored Swallowtails to sheer white Pale Beauty Moths, they are another life form that I find fascinating. One morning while I sipped coffee on the deck, a Pale Swallowtail landed on the Holly tree right in front of me. I snapped a series of shots while it perched and soaked in the sunshine to dry and unfurl its wings. Such an elusive moment I was blessed to behold. And then it was gone.
How long has it been? We kept asking one another as we drove over the Lewis and Clark Bridge across the Columbia River from Longview, Washington to Rainier, Oregon, following Route 30 West to Astoria. At least fifteen years we decided, maybe more. We wondered if there was still a toll to drive across the bridge from Astoria back to the Washington side of the Columbia, at its confluence with the Pacific Ocean. No toll. Just that lovely, long four mile sweep down to the water and across, then through little sea towns: Chinook, Ilwaco, Seaview, to our destination – Long Beach.
Long Beach, WA
Sunset
May 29, 2013
In the one year our three year old beagle, Josie has been with us, she has become a good little traveler. On this two hour journey, she alternated between snoozing on my lap, and sniffing the breeze as we drove through towns, and across the Astoria bridge. With her front paws on the ledge of my door and head poked out the one-third open window, her velvety ears flapped gently in the wind. As we drew closer to the coast, Josie’s intensity increased. Thrusting her nose out the window inhaling the brackish scent, her eyes signaled she was searching for an association to this place. We have no idea whether or not she’d ever been to the coast before, but this was the first time with us. And, it was the first time we would spend nights in a motel together.
The Lodge we chose to stay at was dog friendly, and the trail to the beach was an easy walk. After we’d settled into our room, while Creighton checked out the WiFi connectivity, Josie and I took off for the beach. Though cloudy and breezy we were blessed with no rain. Josie trotted and sniffed on her extending reel leash until we crested the dune and came into view of the ocean. It was just the two of us and acres of hard packed sand as far as the eye could see. I unsnapped the lead from her collar, and started walking toward the ocean. In an instant, Josie took off running full pelt in a wide circle that brought her careening back past me.
Josie takes off!
As she whipped by the second time, grinning as happy dogs do, her eyes sparkled with delight. I laughed out loud, encouraging her with praise and short spurts of running along. Always wanting to please, Josie obeyed my commands to stay off the dead crab remains. A low tide had just turned so we danced around the edges of the shallow waves, Josie sniffing the yellow tinged foam as it receded.
The next day we made five trips to the beach, one of them an extended exploration North, where Josie learned all about shorebirds. Creighton accompanied us on some of our walks, and he too was excited to see how Josie took to the sands. By the time we turned back from our last walk and packed to leave, Josie had proven herself to be an adaptable traveler. She slept soundly all night both nights, only sounded warning barks when she heard something outside, and quieted on command. We will do this again, I assured her as I did my best to associate the word “Beach” with all this fun.
It was long after those halcyon nights with our Cliff House friends drinking pitcher after pitcher of beer at The Goal Post Tavern, punching quarters into the Juke Box to listen to another round of Honky Tonk Women or Jumpin’ Jack Flash. It was after we’d opened our little record store, and closed it just two years later, flat broke, making an ignominious exit in the bone chilling depth of icy winter. Exiled.
Long after the apartment with silverfish, cleaning the spoiled milk of others on hands and knees, selling leisure suits to henpecked husbands. Well after our rebirth of wonder; lifted by a Jewish family business, our intrinsic and earned worth recognized, rewarded. Back on both feet. Long after the first house, a master’s degree, a solid career, a new house, Apple computers, a beagle, roses; long after it seemed I had the world in the palm of my hand, it vanished, disintegrated. Mother died, husband lost his mind; total eclipse – for years – but not forever.
ghost of a chance
The first summer after I started my career in education (1983) I insisted Creighton and Itake a vacation. We spent three wonderful days in August, on Orcas Island, and bicycled San Juan and Lopez Islands as well. The next year we had a week, and eventually we would spend the first two weeks of July, in Cabin number 1, at Beach Haven.
This summer, 2013, will be the first one in thirty years that we will not be going to Orcas. Instead, we plan to spend a week at Beach Haven in October. We visited twice before in November, so we know it will be a quieter time. This photo is one I took in November, 2007, on the Ferry that transports visitors from Anacortes, WA to Shaw, Lopez, Orcas, and San Juan Islands. As the Ferry churns ever away from the mainland of busy daily life and work, it takes me to a place of absolute peace and restfulness; my escape.
bye bye
If you read my blogs you know I am a naturalist and plant devotee. In thinking about the weekly photo challenge – patterns – my first impulse was to put together a mosaic of various forms I notice in the flora around me; from the arch and symmetry of a fern frond, to the diminishing drops of Dicentra (Bleeding Heart) hanging in full bloom. Instead I decided to limit this first study to display the beauty of going in circles – a floral show in the round.
Lindy Low LeCoq 