13 Monday May 2013
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It was raining lightly when I got to the woods last night after an overcast day. That was good after days of beautiful blue sky, as it meant we had the trail to ourselves.
In the rain, under gray skies, the forest was glowing with a light all of its own.
I never remember how it is.
Or maybe I choose not to remember.
So that each shift is fresh wonder.
18 Thursday Apr 2013
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There was a moment just before, when leaves fell to ground and dust, when breath was mist in the air, when all was bared in shades of gray and brown and silver.
Now the river sang through to green and home and long sweet days.
02 Tuesday Apr 2013
Posted in Snapshots
When that moment comes of spring, all the waiting things fling themselves towards change and growth and new, with the abandon of a child. A new box of all of the one hundred and thirty three colors.
Fern. Forest Green. Atomic Tangerine. Beaver. Bittersweet. Blue Bell. Blue Violet. Blue Gray. Blush. Brown. Burn Sienna. Chestnut. Copper. Dandelion. Fuschia. Hot Magenta. Inchworm. Indigo. Jazzberry Jam. Mahogany. Maize Manatee Mango Tango. Mountain Meadow. Neon Carrot. Olive Green. Outer Space and Piggy Pink and Purple Mountain’s Majesty. Sepia and Shadow. White.
A new box. All of the one hundred and thirty three colors.
04 Monday Feb 2013
Posted in And Around, Other Side Of The Inside Of The Box
I’m thinking we’re well on our way to spring. On the way down the hill from the evening hike four days ago, I was sitting at the stoplight on the east side of Mt. Hood Community College, and thought my car was blowing up. I turned down the story I was listening to and rolled down the window, because (in limited areas of life) I prefer to confront bad news head on. The light turned green, and as I crossed the intersection and headed past the green space, I realized I was hearing
frogs.
A whole lot of frogs.
Every night since, I have turned down the story I was listening to and rolled down the window. It makes me laugh every time.
The frogs we have around here are teeny tiny green tree-frog-ish types, but boy can they sing.
So if you have a few minutes, after dark, go drive Stark by the creek that runs through the greenspace, slow, or better yet park and walk the new path they put in last summer. Bettin’ it makes you smile, too.
Where to go
Intersection of Stark Street and Troutdale Road
Just behind MHCC and across from Dairy Queen
Meanwhile, go take a look at the National Wildlife Federation photography contest pics I borrowed the featured image for the post from. I won’t spoil the surprise by showing you the owl here.
Victor S. Lamoureux’s frogs are New York frogs, but still. Charming, aren’t they?
Columbia Gorge Gateway 