I took this photo: above the fray

I took this photo: above the fray

“You know, the point of business cards is to share them.” JB is my colleague and friend. He’s a good man, capable, knowledgeable. He’s also my antithesis, an extrovert, a people person. He engages with anyone; has a thousand questions. He’s the nicest of schmoozers, sincere, and genuine. JB collects business cards and has a special folder that holds the ones he receives. He notes where and when he received them. This is a level of dedication that I cannot muster.

Business cards are one of my nightmares. I prefer not to give them out. Perhaps this stems from living in Japan, where business cards are a formality. They are offered with humility and a polite bow; there is reverence. I don’t take myself this seriously.

“Yes, JB, I know what business cards are for.”

“Are you going to use them today?”

“Maybe. I will do my best to give out business cards today,” I declare. We are at a day-long workshop with people from state and federal agencies, biologists, consultants, policy people. It’s a lovely setting on the Columbia River, and despite the gray November day, I would rather be outside.

We enter the building, JB dives into the fray. I go to the bathroom.

I am wearing wide-leg trousers. I love these pants, though, like most girl clothes, the pockets are left wanting. Not quite deep enough to be genuine pockets, but deep enough to lull you into believing something in your pocket will stay there.

I stand up, pulling up my pants, turning to flush simultaneously. The silver business card holder, a gift from my mother (another extrovert), slips from my pocket and into the toilet bowl. Gratefully, the toilet contents are gone, and the case turns sideways against the outflow, stopping its downward spiral. I can only laugh. I reach in, retrieve the case.

I expect the cards are entirely soaked but open the case to find only a few wet edges. Regardless, I empty the case into the bathroom trash and wash the case, my hands, the case again, my hands again, and finally, I pocket the case.

Loitering in the lobby between talks, a man approached me, introduced himself.

“I work for PUD.” This is not auspicious to me. I know PUD is the public utility department, but I would never, ever introduce myself as working for PUD.

I give him my name. It blows by him. We chat for a few minutes. His interest is clearly not related to work or the conference. I don’t know how to extract myself.

To my great relief, JB joins the conversation. The three of us talk for a few minutes. JB now knows the man’s life story and sees that a professional connection could be valuable. I know otherwise but hold my tongue.

Finally, JB turns to me and says, “Did you give him your card?”

“Well…” I politely decline to offer a card.

I took this photo after fleeing the scene. I was grateful to be above the clouds and beyond the realm of business and its cards.

Deschutes River, Oregon, sagebrush, fog, rain, The Road not Taken Enough

I took this photo: Hart Mountain refuge

I took this photo: Hart Mountain refuge

It was Memorial Day weekend, late May, though there was still snow. The spring bird song was incredible. Wildflowers were blooming. Pronghorn babies were popping out. And the mosquitoes were voracious. They were so thick and so wild for blood. I took this photo in a wild hot spring at Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge. For some reason, the mosquitoes didn’t linger over the hot spring. I lingered where they didn’t—my own Hart Mountain refuge.

Morning, afternoon and evening

Morning, afternoon and evening

Time stretching to the horizon

The days seem full and long; the weeks zip by like the morning’s first cup of coffee.

It’s been a while since I last posted; I’ve been nesting and resting. Forgive me.

Here is a day in the life; yesterday, in my life.

New Mexico, spring, reptiles, The Road not Taken Enough, Fence lizard, neighbor

New Mexico, sunset, silhouette, skyline, The Road not Taken Enough

A big man, Indigenous

A big man, Indigenous

Where is my humanity?

A big man, Indigenous

            With wilderness in his mind

Coffee freely offered

            Brings an offering of gratitude

 

Passersby engage or shun

            Gaining momentum

Fearful of the irregular actions of

            A big man, Indigenous

 

A hearse passes

            The line of cars streaming behind

A big man, Indigenous

            Stands, crosses himself, bows his head

 

A young Black man stops, shakes hands

            Says good morning

A big man, Indigenous

            I will offer a bite to eat as I leave

 

The police chief visits

            A big man, Indigenous

No move along, no aggression

            Equals in their place

 

He walks, not well, right knee seized

            A little wildness in his gait

A big man, Indigenous

            Shakes his head, steps a fancy dance

 

Away across the street

            A big man, Indigenous

Follows his morning agenda

            I slink out the back door

Good intention devoid of action

 

Coming soon…

Coming soon…

…to a bookstore near you

Timber Press will release Best Little Book of Birds: Coastal Washington in June. Look for it at your favorite local bookstore – and if you can’t find it there because, say, you live in Oklahoma, I recommend ordering it directly from Timber Press (available for preordering, too) or from Powell’s Books.

WooHoo!

Gratitude to the amazing photographers Steve Lenz, Greg Smith, and Matt Vann and to the Timber Press team of editors, photo editors, layout and design people, and the whole crew that worked behind the cover, unseen and unnamed. Thank you!

best little book of birds, coastal washington, Washington coast, birds, bird guide, field guide, birds, birds, birds

Priorities

Priorities

Rocks + bones; Rocks, yes, rocks; Rocks 🙂

As you may know, I moved recently, and for the first time in almost three years, I’ve unpacked everything. I’m not long in the furniture department, but I’ve got rocks, shells, and bones covered, from Australian abalone to obsidian blocks and a complete moose skeleton.

Who needs chairs?

rocks, obsidian, obsession, rock hound, the road not taken enough

 

Liminal phases

Liminal phases

Transitions

I’m back in the land of sky and light.

The earth spins through the ephemeral colors of the day. The ethereal light of morning is luminous. The sunset gradient passes from the sun’s flame to cool atmospheric blue in a hair’s breadth and illuminates the setting moon.

New Mexico, deserts sunset, moon set, moon

All about scale

All about scale

2023: The year in review

This year’s photos cross landscapes and time, the eternal and ephemeral. From the spiraling mazes of Southwest canyons to the glowing night sky of the Arctic and a handful of people in between, 2023 was about scale.

May 2024 flow easily and provide expanded horizons.

Thanks for tagging along. xoxo TDesert, southwest, New Mexico, Ghost Ranch, maze, spiral,

desert, southwest, Nevada, sagebrush, mining

desert, southwest, Nevada, sagebrush, mining, Owl Club, Battle Mountain

Montana, aspens, outhouse, vibrant

North Dakota, feet, red dirt, mud,

Greenland, scale,

Greenland, whale, abandoned places

Greenland, scale, iceberg, playground, construction,

Iceland, wall art, sheep, stroller

Svalbard, Pyramiden, Longyearbyen, scale, Njordskoldbreen, glacier, abandoned places

WIndow, kitchen, view, Mountain View, scale, Svalbard, Spitsbergen Artists Center, Longyearbyen,

Svalbard, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, northern lights

Walking in the dark

Walking in the dark

Winding down

My time in Svalbard is rapidly slipping away. The dark is comforting, always there, no matter the hour or weather. There is no need to rush to catch the last bit of the day before sunset. I draw the curtains against street lights.

The moon is back. It rose above the horizon the other day, almost full. It fills the clouds, and the mountains glow snowy bright, rivaled only by Mine 7’s reflected light.

I am ridiculously grateful for a smartphone smart enough to capture the dark. My night photography camera skills are lacking, as is a tripod.

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena, crosses, cemetery, graveyard, mining, accidents, avalanches

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena, crosses, cemetery, graveyard, mining, accidents, avalanches

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena, crosses, cemetery, graveyard, mining, accidents, avalanches

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena, crosses, cemetery, graveyard, mining, accidents, avalanches

Northern lights

Northern lights

Changing light

As indoor light exceeds the outdoor light, the regular 0916 library photo becomes increasingly sharper images of me in front of the library stacks. Night is taking hold, and with it comes new light– town, bonfires, the moon, and aurora take the sky.


Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena, bonfire

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena

Svalbard, northern lights, aurora, aurora borealis, Longyearbyen, Norway, polar night, atmosphere, atmospheric phenomena

The Road not Taken Enough