Pacific Northwest

It is almost the end of May. The rains are retreating and sun is beginning to lengthen it's appearance. A solar eclipse occurred three days ago and clouds broke just long enough for us to witness. Life has been full of learning and busy times which have woven themselves into what will now become transition. Closing of one chapter and the opening of another. here are a few recent favorites from my adventures in the Pacific Northwest. 

The Alsea River

the Havest

Sunset on the Olympic Peninsula

easier through a lens

Beauty comes in many forms. I'm not sure why but sometimes it is much easier to see through a camera lense.

people

I'm convinced. One of the finest joys in life come from watching others. One of these days I going to make someone very angry with my camera. not on purpose of course. but yes the day will arrive that the person I take a picture of will actually not be so stoked on the notion. they will tell me about it.  But that is okay. People are at their very finest when they don't realize they are under the lens, When my picture is being taken, it makes me feel like i'm under a microscope too. I understand. yet I think the idea of pictures, a moment frozen in time, are invaluable. they capture what our memory cannot always contain and what are eyes sometimes fail to recognize.

There is a man at the market that plays the fiddle. He might just be my favorite. Maybe not so much because of his music. no, I think more so because he is he. At that very moment he is perfect. The other night, riding home late on bikes I came across a scene I longed my camera for but accepted the memory as a close second option. I watched a woman in a white dress soulfully play a violin. barefoot, she moved only to the changing of the pitch. In front of her stood a man. black suit and tie. two feet in front of her. nothing else mattered at that moment. The moment was perfect. It defined every essence of beauty I could possibly dream up. Take time out of your walk, your busy day. 10 seconds. stop and look around you next time you are in a crowd of people. you never know what your eyes may see.  

eyes speak to the soul

sleeping caterpillars

The morning sky put on a fierce show. The sun appeared just as we departed the quiet passage town of Wrangell, illuminating every shape in its path. The assorted colored sleeping caterpillars atop their lawn chairs on the deck of the ferry stirred, some break free from their cocoon but most only peeked out with tired eyes and curl back down for a few more hours. The butterflies will emerge at a more reasonable hour. I left my yellow enclosure to venture out to the railing where the morning breeze bit at my newly awakened skin. The water still except for the wake trailing behind the boat. The clouds hanging low over the sea, breaking only when they meet a solitary island.