Just a quick note for those of you who have been following this blog for a long time. I’m going to begin moving posts and links over to my new website.
I think I’ll eventually set it up so this blog automatically redirects you to my new site. But if you want to keep up with what I’m doing, you should make the jump now.
Hope to see you there!
Yesterday I took my stepkids for a little picnic at Sain Creek (part of the Scoggins Valley Park). Our favorite picnic area is shady, and since it doesn’t really have any fancy amenities, it tends to be less crowded than most other parts of the park.
The creek is ice cold and clear, perfect for wading or sitting on a big rock and soaking your feet.
The play of light and shadows over the water was enchanting.
As were the tree roots hanging over the bank of the creek.
The afternoon was a nice change of pace; cool, moving water, shadows, green growing things, and a very smart crow who stole some of our potato chips. I didn’t get a picture of the thief: he or she was too fast.
So just over a year ago I shared this picture of my little herb garden with all of you.
This is the same garden bed, from almost the same angle, as of last night.
I couldn’t shoot it from exactly the same angle without cutting off too many leaves and flowers.
What a difference a year makes.
I think everyone who lives in Oregon has taken a picture (or twelve) of Haystack Rock. I’m no exception.
I wouldn’t call this a particularly compelling Haystack Rock picture, but I like the birds flying away from the rock, and the reflection on the water.
There are some tower-like formations to the south of Haystack Rock. According to Wikipedia, they smaller stacks are known, collectively, as “The Needles”. I actually find them more interesting than the main attraction: they’re like some kind of gate posts. I feel like if I could sail a boat between them I might end up somewhere entirely other.
I have a thing for feathers. I’m not sure what it’s all about, but I love them.
Last time I went to the beach there were tiny feathers all over the wet sand.
Many of them had been shaped by the water into ghostly, wispy plumes.
I wanted to somehow keep them exactly like this, and hang them on a mobile above my desk with little prisms and crystals.
But they were wet and covered in sand, so I settled for pictures. Pictures will last longer anyway.
Last weekend my sweetie and I went to Cannon Beach for the day. This tiny shell fragment caught my eye, and I was kneeling in the sand trying to get a good picture of it.
So I started snapping pictures at different angles.
And getting closer . . .
And closer . . .
And . . .
It was a fun day.
Over the weekend we had severe winds; Monday morning when I woke up I half expected to look out the window and see a Yellow Brick Road. But fortunately we stayed firmly anchored, and by Monday afternoon the sun came out for a while. I took the opportunity to for a walk.
The puddles reflected the trees and the (briefly) blue sky.
Just one more thing to love about the rain: puddle reflections. It’s starting to seem like spring about half the time–which is generally the best we can hope for around here, and which is preferable to the snowbound Februaries of my childhood.
Sometimes the reflections are disorienting; when I look down I feel like I could fall into them much deeper than the millimeters of water.
Part of the path at the park was flooded, so I had to squelch through the wet grass to avoid backtracking.
I felt like the soggy walk was worth it just for the reflections on the other side of the giant puddle.
I got wet on my return journey–as abruptly as it appeared, the sun disappeared and the wind and rain came back. But it was nothing a nice cup of tea couldn’t cure, and the fresh air was nice after a weekend of hiding indoors.