Tipi | Twisp, WA | 2008
Like a ghost, the tipi emerged then faded behind a veil of snow and fog. From where we stood, it looked like a time warp. Native Americans had camped for centuries on this rise above Beaver Creek. But a skirmish with early white settlers (just downstream) frayed the Indians’ elemental bond to the place, and they eventually shied away. Could our neighbor’s tipi help conjure their return?
Heading East | Coulee City, WA | 2008
Even short trips can offer escape and mystery. On that day, a two-mile drive towards roiling clouds delivered the promise of true adventure. Low sun, open road, a sky-high tower of mist and shadow — all elements were present for a magical transformation. So I kept driving.
Medusa | Moses Coulee, WA | 2008
A dark smudge marked a sun-washed landscape of sage hills and basalt steps. As I got closer, dreadlocks seemed to jut from a thin frame. Even closer: It clarified into a stalk topped by tendrils — alive and thriving in heat, dust, drought. We stood face-to-face to assess each other, unclear who was more surprised by this unexpected encounter.
9 Geese | East Wenatchee, WA | 2007
I heard these geese long before they glided into view. I finally spotted them skimming above the treeline on a dogleg vector to splash-land in Porter’s Pond, a placid cove on the Columbia River. Where have you been? What have you seen? Why are you here? Where are you going? They answered excitedly, breathlessly, but I don’t understand Honk.
Picnic Shelter | Othello, WA | 2009
It called for a steaming bowl of chili or beef stew. Instead, that day’s brutally cold lakeside lunch — 20 degrees, north wind, no sun — was chilled even further by my pathetically limp sandwich (sliced turkey and cheese). But, even in winter, I love this particular waterfront picnic shelter tucked under the spread of a gorgeous tree (admittedly spooky when bare) on the banks of Potholes Reservoir. Visually, the lake strips away elements of the already-austere landscape to leave mostly horizontals and negative space. My compositional favorites, punctuated sparsely by jutting verticals: the shelter, the tree, the cloud of my breath rising skyward.
Comm Station? | Badger Mountain, WA | 2007
No one yet has explained exactly what this bulbous facility atop Badger Mountain actually does. I assume it’s an antenna of sorts — radio, radar, microwave, extraterrestrial signals — that sends or receives vital information. Or maybe an electromagnetic measuring device? A few years ago, I drove up to its gate and was met by a bespectacled man with a buzz cut and pocket protector. When I asked what the “golf ball” actually did, he seemed offended. “Nothing magic,” he said, “if you understand physics.”
Poodle at Play | Wenatchee, WA | 2007
An adult’s joy: veiled. A toddler’s joy: delightful. A dog’s joy: pure and genuine. Best of all, a dog’s joy easily transfers to nearby observers. We laughed and whooped as Duffy romped through the sprinklers.
Fair Entry | Cashmere, WA | 2007
Nothing showcases the industrious nature of average Americans better than a jammed-full exhibition barn at the County Fair. Two seasons (spring, summer) of sometimes back-breaking toil all comes down to this annual display of pride, often perfection. Beguiling blooms, champion chickens and (in this case) a paper plate of prized peppers.
Wire Art | Seattle, WA | 2007
My friend Luck led me to a construction site, where a trash bin delivered unexpected art. From inside the bin, a jumble of discarded copper wire poked upwards in random design. An impromptu sculpture. A consummate conception.
Messenger | Quincy, WA | 2015
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