Land Folds | Wenatchee, WA | 2010
Walking the grooves of Burch Mountain hides its geologic ruts and ripples. Its true complexity — and the beauty of its sensual contours — appears only at a distance. I’ve noticed that happens, too, when I spy my spouse from across a bustling room. Most of the time, I’m too close to fully appreciate her laugh, gestures and own sensual contours. Distance in a relationship is often undervalued.
Ravens | Stratford, WA | 2010
The crackle of my lunch bag, the glint off foil wrapping, the scent of meat and cheese — something about my sandwich lured this crafty pair of scavengers to my picnic spot in the middle of nowhere. They were surprisingly good conversationalists: squawking, clicking and cooing with my every bite. In the end, they stood with beaks full of tossed-away crust and ranted: “This is it? No ham?”
Skier | Twisp, WA | 2011
Don’t we mostly follow in someone else’s tracks? Trails, sidewalks, stairways, aisles, hallways, highways, even sky routes at 30,000 feet? The local college pours concrete paths on the diagonals students use as shortcuts to classes. Last week, I felt a tingle of excitement as I stepped off one path onto untrodden lawn. Trailblazer.
Peninsula | Chelan Falls, WA | 2010
Peninsulas can have the isolated feel of islands, but with no boat required. This one-tree jut, really a small jetty, slows the Columbia River current at Beebe Park. In fog, you can lean back against that tree and imagine the world has retreated, finally leaving you alone to figure out what’s up, what’s down.
Ribbon Road | Farmer , WA | 2010
Dark clouds race overhead on a whooshing wind, but few cars go by. From the west, a ragged line of tumbleweeds buzzsaw past, but nary a vehicle plies the road. Dust devils turn black with topsoil as they spiral over plowed fields, but Highway 2 stays mostly empty. Lots of travel on this cross-state route, but not by car or truck.
Man on Street | Seattle , WA | 2010
Something catches his attention. The swivel of his head towards the unseen (for me, at least) catches my attention. The shutter clicks, and I’m aware I’ve caught a security guard’s attention. Then the strolling man pauses to glance around, as if he can feel this concentrated beam of attention — from guard to me to him — from three floors up.
Fence | Rock Island, WA | 2008
Way up on the hill is a fence out of place. Not a cow or horse in sight. Deer can jump it easily. Trespassers who admire its sturdy lines can climb right over. Clearly, this fence is not so much a physical barrier as a mental boundary. Within its perimeter, close and comfortable, my thoughts graze calmly. But when I raise my gaze beyond the pasture — up there — my ideas leap like startled antelope.
Diatoms | Quincy , WA | 2008
Fossilized remains of single-celled algae rise in heaps (in photo’s foreground) atop the basalt plain southwest of Quincy near the Columbia River. Each teensy skeleton dates to the late Miocene Period (about 5 million years ago), long enough to form huge mounds of silica now used in water filters and other devices. That a county road curves past these ancient graveyards of once-living organisms is nothing short of amazing.
Leaf | East Wenatchee, WA | 2009
The simple complexity of nature can hold my attention for hours. Waves of wind-blown wheat, circles of lichen on boulders, the spread of veins in a leaf — all different, all somehow connected, all evidence of a grand design I can’t quite grasp.
Car Carcass | Hunters, WA | 2009
“That’s an interesting old abandoned car,” I said to my brother. “Looks like a gangster car from the 1930s or ’40s.” A pause. Then my brother responded, “The cloud isn’t too shabby, either.” From that moment, I’ve taken few photos without first looking up, around, to the rear and even inside myself to gauge my own gut feelings. I’m often surprised at what I’ve missed.
IrwinFoto 