Wrong vs. Right

Nearing sunrise on my street

“We are all prone to think there is something wrong with the mental processes of the man who disagrees with us.”
— Jack London, “The Cruise of the Snark,” from Jack London: The Paths Men Take

I have to admit, I am often guilty of this!

Seasonal Lethargy or Something Else?

Sunrise through trees

I wish I could tell you that I have been absent from this website because I have been engrossed in a great project or off traveling to some exotic destination.  But no.  I have no excuses.  I seem to have sunk into a kind of lethargy.  The days pass and I have no sketches, paintings, writings,  nor photographs to show for this passing time.

My friend Bonnie sent me this poem, which is an affirming way to consider my down time:

SWEET DARKNESS
by David Whyte

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.
When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.
It’s time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.
There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.
The dark will be your home
tonight.
The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.
You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.

 

At Sunrise for the Sunrise: Road Trip to Mount Rainier

Sunrise at Sunrise, Mount Rainier National Park

We continued our exploration of national parks with a road trip to Mount Rainier.  We had to hit the road at 4:30 a.m. in order to arrive at Sunrise for the sunrise at 6:50 a.m.  Our timing was perfect, and we pulled into the Sunrise viewpoint with two minutes to spare!

Sunrise at Sunrise

View of Mount Adams in the distance

We breakfasted with a picnic in the brisk, clear air — hard-boiled eggs, small tomatoes, pre-cooked bacon, cheese slices, rice crackers, mango juice.  Snow-capped Mount Rainier loomed over our picnic table.  Then we drove to the Naches Peak Loop Trailhead where we stepped out for an early morning hike.

“I could walk forever with beauty.  Our steps are not measured in miles but in the amount of time we are pulled forward by awe.”
— Terry Tempest Williams, The Hour of Land

Here are some photos from the trail:

Reflection of Mount Rainier in Tipsoo Lake

Dewey Lake in the distance

And finally, we ended our visit to Mount Rainier with a gondola ride up Crystal Mountain where we had lunch at the Summit Restaurant.  We sat on the outside patio in the blazing sun so that we could enjoy the view.

Summit of Crystal Mountain

Gray jays

Mount Rainier from the Summit Restaurant at Crystal Mountain

Our visit to Mount Rainier National Park was about as perfect as we could have wished.

 

 

Prairie Sunrise

“The prairie landscape embraces the whole of the sky.”
— Paul Gruchow, Journal of a Prairie Year

Sunrise over corn field

“The sun rose.  It popped up abruptly as it always does along distant horizons on the prairie or at sea.”
— Paul Gruchow, The Necessity of Empty Places

Here are some photos of a Minnesota summer sunrise at the old family farm:

Dawning day

Sunrise over corn field

 

 

Sunrise Over Big Turtle Lake

“With every dawn, every place on earth is a new place.”
— Paul Gruchow, Journey of a Prairie Year

View of the dawning day from the dock on Big Turtle Lake

“Red and pink light began to stream from a place below the horizon in the east like the notes of a silent fanfare.  For a long time the sun lingered just below the horizon, like a performer behind a curtain. . . . Suddenly the sun burst into view and the whole world was radiant. . . It began to climb, taking command of the day.”
— Paul Gruchow, The Necessity of Empty Places

On this trip to Minnesota, more than ever before, I was constantly amazed by the drama in the skies.  The clouds were ever-changing and in perceptible motion across the spacious skies.  Look how this sunrise unfolds:

Boat dock on Big Turtle Lake in northern Minnesota

Looking west at sunrise

Looking east at dawn

Same view, later in the day

Same view, nearing sunset

 

 

 

More about My Nature Bridge Retreat

On the shores of Lake Crescent, Olympic National Park

Early morning moments at Nature Bridge

During my childhood and youth, I never went to summer camp.  I could imagine what it was like though, from reading books.  My week at Nature Bridge finally gave me — in my sixth decade — a personal, first-hand taste of summer camp!  In fact, several youth groups shared the campus with us.  Unlike them, my time was not taken with group outings and pre-planned activities.  My time was pretty much my own.

Sunrise from the dock at Nature Bridge, Lake Crescent

I am an early riser, and I truly enjoyed my quiet moments on the dock watching the sun rise.  Little waves lapped and the dock creaked.  Swallows dove and swooped over the water.  I sat with my cup of coffee and marveled at the abstract, undulating colors and reflections on the lake’s surface.

Wouldn’t these watery images make a great abstract painting?

My attempt at painting the ripples in the lake

The sky had lightened considerably by the time the sun finally peeked over the surrounding mountains.  As it rose, it highlighted the tips of the trees and rock outcroppings on the opposite shore.

Tree tops sun lit like candle flames

Shoreline, Lake Crescent

Watercolor sketch of view from the dock

Watercolor and ink sketch of shoreline, Lake Crescent

Baby swallows alighted on the dock rails.  A rabbit sat still in high alert.  A deer and her twin fawns nibbled the grass by the cottages.  The day was coming alive.  And then it was time for breakfast.

Baby barn swallow on the dock railing

Barn swallow

Rabbit outside the dining hall

Fawn

Watercolor sketch of fawn

By the second day, I found this perfect spot for painting in an empty classroom above the dining hall.  I am a bit chagrined to admit that I prefer painting from my photographs rather than in the field.  For one thing, it is always awkward to cart painting supplies in the outdoors.  And I find painting outside overwhelming.  My eyes see too much — in my direct vision, and in my peripheral vision.  I am constantly distracted.  And everything keeps moving!  When I photograph, I frame the view and limit all these competing elements.  So when I paint from one of my photographs, I can narrow my focus to just what is is the frame.

Using my photos as a starting point, I attempted to paint my impressions of the lush forests in the area.

My first watercolor sketch of tree trunks

I started my next watercolor painting of tree trunks by coloring in the negative space between the trees.

Watercolor painting of forest

 

 

A Gauzy Dance: The Sunrise

Dawning day along U.S. Hwy. 97 in Oregon

“. . . a gauze dance,
lighter, lighter,
yellow, blue at the tops of trees,
more God, more God everywhere,
lighter, lighter,
more world everywhere . . .”
— Anne Sexton, from “The Fury of Sunrises”

Wind turbines in the dawn light

Would anyone sleep late if they knew that there was a rapture-inducing light show celebrating all Creation outside their doors and windows?  How many times have I missed these spectacular natural performances simply through inattention and lack of care (and tiredness)?

My husband and I drove the night through on our road trip to the Painted Hills in Oregon.  So, cocooned in our car, we were enveloped by the dawn.  The skies began to brighten incredibly early, around 4 a.m.  (The summer solstice in Seattle is today, June 20th, at 3:34 p.m. — how appropriate that today’s blog post celebrates the sun.)  And we were presented with a “gauzy dance” as the earth awakened.  We kept stopping along the road so that I could photograph the cloud choreography.  Our destination may have been the Painted Hills, but we started the day immersed in the spectacle of painted skies all around us.

I didn’t think the day could get much better than this.

Power lines across the high plateau

Approaching sunrise

Softening light as the day awakes

Captivated by the eastern skies, I suddenly remembered to look west, and this was the reward.

Sunrise with telephone poles

 

The Adventuresome Life: Road Trips

Self-portrait in side view mirror

I would like to embody an attitude of adventuresome-ness.  With the right attitude, I think that anyone can become an explorer of the world.  For me, adventures at home and farther afield feed many other parts of my being.  They give me opportunities to make photographs, provide subjects for future paintings, and fill my heart and soul.

As with most people I know, life is very busy right now.  I simply do not have enough time to spend on all the things that I enjoy.  But these days I am determined to work some short road trips into my life.  Things seem to have conspired to make this a possibility.  I am still working a three-quarter of full-time position, and I have to work every other weekend, but every two weeks I also get four days off in a row.  I recently bought a new car which makes driving pure pleasure, and I am so grateful to have economical and dependable wheels.  I am now old enough for my very own “senior” National Parks pass, a lifetime gateway to our natural world.  And I have a great companion in my husband — he is easygoing and does not mind frequent stops for photographing — and he helps with driving.  So I am well set just now to take advantage of the privilege of adventuresome road trips.

We traveled along this scenic byway to the Painted Hills of Oregon.

I can think of a long list of relatively short-distance road trips that I would like to make.  For example, I would like to explore and document in photos the five National Scenic Byways and 22 State Scenic Byways in my home state of Washington.  I would like to travel around the Selkirk Loop in Canada, just north of Washington State.  The list can grow even longer when I consider the many places outside the state.

During my most recent stint of days off work, my husband and I drove to the Painted Hills of Oregon.  It was very much a journey of discovery that took us to a part of Oregon that neither of us had ever driven before.  In fact, nobody I knew has ever been there.

I had seen a few photos of the Painted Hills, and knew they would make great photographs, especially in the low morning and evening light.  But the weather forecast was for clouds, showers, and possibly even some thunderstorms.  It would be a long drive (over 7 hours according to Mapquest) and I didn’t want to feel like the trip was a bust if I couldn’t photograph.  But in the end, I decided that I would never do anything if I waited for the whims of the weather — and we decided to go.

I’m so glad we did.

No matter that it took us 15 hours (15 hours!!!) to arrive at our destination with stops for fishing (George), photographing (me), construction delays (it took 1 hour to go 5 miles in the middle of the night on I-5 due to construction — aargh), and a shortcut on the map that turned out not to be “short” with the slow driving on a curving, gravel road, but which was picturesque nonetheless.

We made the strategic decision to start our road trip at 10 o’clock at night because 1) my husband tends to stay up late anyway, 2) I thought it was no loss to travel the familiar (and boring because we have done it so frequently) I-5 drive down to Portland and I-84 stretch along the Columbia River in the dark of night, and 3) I could sleep while George drove and take over when he got tired, and vice versa.  In spite of little restful sleep, my body seemed to come awake during the daylight hours — and the lightening of the skies began around 4 a.m. in these days leading up to the summer solstice.  So by the time the sun started to rise in the morning, we were on a quiet stretch of U.S. Hwy. 97 in Oregon.  And I was waking up to some awesome landscape.

Sunrise off of US Hwy 97 in Oregon

The day’s sights just kept on giving.  I will need the weekend to upload my photos, edit and caption them, and select the best to share with you in next week’s blog posts.  I hope you stay tuned.  The Painted Hills had not been on my radar for all the decades I have lived in the Pacific Northwest, and my expectations were exceeded.  They are located in the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument, and once again I felt privileged to have access to an incredible place set aside by the national government for all to enjoy.

With the longer-than-expected driving time, we missed the low morning light on the Painted Hills.  And our road trip did include rain, but we were lucky to visit the Painted Hills before the rain hit.  The skies were filled with dramatic clouds and thankfully we avoided the intense mid-day light that washes out the colors of the landscape.  It seemed fitting that we were blessed with the huge arch of a rainbow over the Columbia River on our way home.  Glorious sunrise.  A beauty-filled day.  Color-rich rainbow at day’s end.  As close to perfection as we could have wished.

Driving home on Oregon Hwy 26

Rainbow over the Columbia River

Gratitude for This Life

November morning, Green Lake

The release of Oliver Sacks’ new book, Gratitude, is perfectly timed for Thanksgiving this year.  In these essays, Sacks — who died in August at the age of 82 — reflects on his life and accomplishments in light of his terminal cancer diagnosis.

He mentions some regrets:  “I am sorry I have wasted (and still waste) so much time; I am sorry to be as agonizingly shy at eighty as I was at twenty; I am sorry that I speak no languages but my own mother tongue and that I have not traveled or experienced other cultures as widely as I should have done.”

Sacks reminds me that our latter years are a gift.  He looks upon old age “as a time of leisure and freedom, freed from the factitious urgencies of earlier days, free to explore whatever I wish, and to bind the thoughts and feelings of a lifetime together.”  He says, “One is more conscious of transience and, perhaps, of beauty.”

The urgencies of these latter years are sharpened by their being finite.  “It is up to me now to choose how to live out the months that remain to me.  I have to live in the richest, deepest, most productive way I can.”

“. . . I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.”

“There is no time for anything inessential.”

But above all, Sacks’ heart was full of thanksgiving:  “I cannot pretend I am without fear.  But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude.  I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written.  I have had an intercourse with the world, and the special intercourse of writers and readers.

Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.”

Let us all celebrate Thanksgiving in the spirit of gratitude this year.

 

 

What Is Illuminated

Sunrise at Green Lake

“The task of tasks is to move the world through our souls like a lantern slide and gaze in wonder at what is illuminated.”
— Phil Cousineau, The Book of Roads