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Posts tagged ‘outdoors’

Spring Fling

Here’s a few spring fling photos. I’m going to create a new gallery, the “Spring Fling Photos 2013” gallery. Feel free to use them. How’s that sound? Peachy and good. There are some colors coming along down at the old park, blooming and splashing with April just at the corner. I was just about ready to leave, have me another stroll at the park, second one of the day (look at me, eh?), when the clouds above turned on their creaky faucets. Kind of dampened the whole idea, so I’ll be burning off the extra energy at the gym instead. Nothing new there.SpringFling1


Listening to Iggy Pop and James Williamson, mixed with the Seeds.

Laughter Over Lemonade

My station, it’s been on the airwaves for 65 years. Tomorrow is its last day, last day to air. No joke. I guess they’ve been bought out. That’ll be different, no more rare oldies. I’ll be stuck with a few other stations, a few other options, which have grown increasingly stale. Lemonade House

You think they had good tunes when this house was occupied? Cold winters, frost covered floors. Sauna summers in the kitchen, no quality fans, no ac. Probably playing records, “You turned the tables on me.” Benny Goodman version, 1937. Big band sounds. What a deal. Swing era in the dining room, while a late sun spilled gold on everything in sight. Laughter over lemonade, slightly spiked for good measure. 



A Quick Pause

Cecil, Oregon. Being slapped by gusts of wind, ugly wind. And then it stopped for about five minutes. That’s all the time we had. We figured a few cups of java from the local store might help in regaining our rattled bearings, only to find that it was no longer in operation. And I’m talking about the store, although our brains were not far behind. CecilStore1

Dad found comfort in an old rocking chair, soaking up a brief sun before the gusts returned.  CecilStore2

Buckshot Gusts

It’s been horrid outside. Pelting rain, sideways, sounding like buckshot on window panes. It’s really annoying. I’ve been contemplating on giving my camera a shower, a beating like no other. Psychotic wind gusts are howling insanities, going from kinda nifty to quite disturbing. 

Just another showery day in the Willamette Valley. 

I’m posting an older pic, one from I believe this last fall? Or late summer. It was a good weekend trip, no pain, no problems, everything was great. Dad and I found a few ancient fishing shacks (“Those are actually huts there Paul”) along the river. This was in The Dalles, largest city in Wasco County. Wasco country. That’s what Wasco County amounts too, nothing but country. 


This is thee original. So deep thinks thy artist. I just remember it being a feel good kind of morning. I had wiped our cameras sensors squeaky clean the night before, using bathroom dish soap, all while dad edited on a laptop he found in the hotel lobby. Some Sasquatch show was on TV (“Shout out to Timothy, yo!”), with neither of us paying much attention. 


 Playing around, I decided on bringing the bridge to life. “So much depth behind the arteeest.” It’s amazing the file size of the original, 29.8 megabytes, being shot with my 14mm. All the nerds are going, “Oh wow, hee hee, that’s actually not that great of a size compared to my Sony 5.8.s.” A little cropping, about three minutes of quick editing, and it’s the new within the old. “So artistic. I bet he drinks only the finest white wines. He’s probably from Hood River.” I’m not calling this a throwback. That’s like the latest hipster phrase, “throwback.” Anything they can grab from the 70’s or 80’s, then resurrecting the hell out of it. 



365 Days Of Great Pics Photography, #351-353

Here is number 351… 

Intrusive spell. Multiple grays. Static skies, thick contrast, and a noisy downpour. Thunder claps, all off beat. Stan Getz over the speakers, sweet and melodic. Wipers waving. October turning into November, sharing a rare nostalgic April evening, like an old memory returning home. An emptying of hues, an evening draining away. And a rainbow, promising to never flood the earth again. 

 Here is number 352…

Herons hold a council meeting. Subjects are debatable. 

 Here is number 353…

You’ve all heard of the goose with the golden egg. Now, it’s geese flying to the plunder. 

365 Days Of Great Pics Photography, #344 Daisy, Donnybrook, and the case of the Lone Wolf.

Once again, we went too far. It happens every time. Either it’s some cracked and parched section of asphalt, or worn washboard. It never fails, a simple drive turns into a mini road trip. 


This trip took us to the wild town of Ashwood, then over to Donnybrook. It’s some of the most remote back country I’ve seen, and I’ve seen lots of it. 

 Naked poplar and the remnants of a worn homestead. 

The area was once known as Axehandle, during the pioneer days. It was later known as Donnybrook, this during the ranch era.

Thickets of thistles poke along homestead trail ways.

 Then we met Daisy Thornton, she made photo #344. This was her story…

GPP365-344Daisy Thornton. Lifelong resident.  

Donnybrook. District 19.

“That’s where I went. From grade through high school. It was just a single room school, that’s all it ever really was.”

How long ago was that?

“Well, I’m 89 years old. I grew up right over that hill over there. I’ve lived here my whole life. My house over the hill, where my daughter lives, it’s over a hundred years old.”

Is this considered Donnybrook? Or Ashwood? 

“This was the Donnybrook vicinity. That was back before Jefferson county even existed. This was all Crook county, you know, and this was where my grandfather homesteaded and farmed.”

Is this the only school in the area?

“Third. This was the third school built. The others, well, they’re gone. One caught on fire, and the other once stood out behind this one here. My grandfather donated one acre of land, well, because we needed a new school! So, he donated an acre and they built the school here.”

That is really cool. What about the wagon?

“Oh dear. That was my grandfathers. He would use that for hauling in firewood, lumber, and hay. My husband would tag along, but that was during another time. You had wagons then.”

It’s beautiful out here. Very far from any surrounding towns.

“Oh yes. I had a wolf out front here. He was picking on antelope. They said they’d never be over here. Well, I know one thing, that was no coyote! And then the wild boars. They are thick. And such a pain!”

You live out here all alone? 

“Yep. My husband, he’s gone. My daughter lives up over the hill. My other daughter lives down the road, with her husband, and one of my kids just bought that section of land outside of Ashwood, where that homestead stands with them poplars.”

We were there earlier. We happened to get photos. Pretty cool.

“Oh yes. Everybody wanted that section of land. Well, this is my home. My garden stays green, because I’m blessed with water.” 

365 Days Of Great Pics Photography, #342

Here is number 342… 

Autumns Furnace. Vibrant maples exhibit glowing ambers. 

A shallow pool collects falls decaying. 

Dad put this birdhouse up last spring, crooked and all. And the birds left it, crooked and all.