Heading Home

My mind mirrors the clogged stream at my feet, spaghetti leaf stems and long three pronged pine needles, the kind you pulled apart like a wishbone as a kid, divert flow allowing only a small trickle . Thoughts have been this way the past few days. The valve in my mind rusty, letting only a single drop intermittently kiss the galvanized synaptic steel rim before falling out my mouth. No postcards, no observations, no making time for me. A stranger said it was good, it means you've been busy. I said well maybe, but I think you're wrong, I've been neglecting. Three chocolate kisses, a stale cracker, a red apple stolen from a tree, washed down with a few swallows of water reeking of lavender air freshener. I'm naucious and tired. Drove 300 miles the first day of return. The bike went down. Before I knew what I'd gotten myself into it was too late. A dirt road steep with ruts the size of olympic moguls, it was too much. Stayed up most of the night, moaning and begging to be freed of my condition. Finally around midnight I puked, lifted my head to see a shooting star, naked dreams soon followed. There are some secrets we weren't meant to know: back by Silver Lake I saw a young rainbow galloping near mountain bluffs careless on a background of heavy blue clouds ignoring his mother's number one rule. Dear friends, there is no barrel of gold to be found, just empty space all around.

Exploring the Coast, Oyster Shooter

NPPA Flyiing Short Course

Day of firsts: a momentous occasion getting to use a "Touchless-Infrared-Push-Free-thing-of-the-future" drinking fountain that automatically spewed water; and got to handle the new canon 5d camera that shoots video and stills. Craig got a wonderful print at the benefit auction, and afterwards, I got a tour of the city.

Wedding in Portland

Beautiful people (inside and out) getting married at sunset, in a thriving city, what more could you ask for; well, how about a real photo booth with wet chemicals (we got to see them tear it down at the end of the night), or maybe NPR correspondent, Susan Stamberg, officiating the wedding, or maybe having two hours before the groom started getting dressed to meander through the city, or maybe not worrying about missing "the shot" and being the second shooter and using only a 28mm and a 85mm 1.8 lenses, or maybe the night before during the rehearsal dinner stalking a rooster who hated my guts and by nights end getting to kiss him on the beak. Ahh Portland, Oregon, what a place.

To the Top of Mary's Peak

New Tire and Off to Eugene

$450 for new rubber, Lorenzo and Micah heading out for supper, a vegetable oil bus and an amazing couple moving to the woods in NY to live inside their bus and homeschool their kids (there's a stove in there, furnace, beds, toy shelf...everything), and bicycle polo under a bridge.

Arrival in Oregon

An ewok forest lined with ferns and light, moss grows green like fluorescent scabs. Canon ball river rocks freckled like the moon, a fairytale stream, goliath in strength but to touch would wake beauty asleep. Face burnt red like the fresh picked plum squashed by pear while caught in a love triangle with apricot. Pine trees upright like crayons waiting to color the sky. Finally able to answer the nagging question, "where am I," I am here.