River Signs | Vantage, WA | June 2019
Water bends light in weird ways. Fifty years ago, my friend Tom burst to the surface of a farm pond to shout that he’d found a body. (We cooled off in the pond on sweltering afternoons.) “Come see,” said Tom, and he dove back under. I followed him to the far bank, where in about 6 feet of water shimmered what looked like a man covered in slime. Ah, but the underwater light was playing tricks. It cast twisted shadows across an (more…)
Grasses at Bathroom Window | Twisp, WA | June 2019
Grass grows. And mowing it has been a constant in my life for over five decades. Pocket lawns, big fields, sprawling suburban yards — I’ve clipped them all. Still, it grows. Push mowers, self-propelled mulchers, riding machines, bush hog tractors — slicing, chopping, spewing. It never stops. So ornamental grasses thriving untended lift my spirits. They flourish on (more…)
Climber | Frenchman Coulee, WA | June 2019
I lead a low-risk life. Sure, I drive a car and fly in jets. But I’m not a thrill seeker — no sky diving, no zip lines, definitely no rock climbing. Gravity has earned my respect, as has its inevitable interrupter: the ground. From a tall ladder or tree, I’d tumble languidly to the center of the Earth if it wasn’t for (more…)
Rural Electrification | Davenport, WA | June 2019
After a century of candles and lanterns, flipping a switch to instantly dispel darkness must have seemed miraculous to rural homeowners in the 1930s. More radical than radio; more fantastic than flight. Maybe even better than gas engines in easing grueling farm chores. Today’s innovations hardly compare. My new smartphone screen is (more…)
Statue’s Hand | Odessa, WA | June 2019
Hands tell tales. Their age spots, large veins, calloused fingers and folds of skin chronicle our triumphs and failures. More than faces, which can be creamed and tightened, hands hold evidence of life lived. In the grip of struggle; in the clutch of (more…)
Trash Cans | Coulee City, WA | June 2019
Catholic confession is like tossing sins into a trash can, said the priest. “The sins still exist, but you’ve peeled them off your soul and plopped them in the garbage.” Well, maybe. It’s unclear what happens to those tossed transgressions, but the image of a Divine refuse receptacle has lodged in my mind for decades. Question is: Who empties those “sin bins”? I’m curious because at the moment I have (more…)
Farm | Harrington, WA | June 2019
All I know about wheat farming is what I see. Sunlit sheds surrounded by fertile soil. Not as evident: Sweat and tears tilled deep to nourish crops; equipment burdened by weighty mortgages; profits in the hands of faceless foreign buyers. All I want to know is that (more…)
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