Hells Canyon

Taken from the Hells Canyon Overlook as storm and darkness approached…hells_canyon-7603

Some pretty amazing scenery…


impossible to truly capture the scale and grandeur…


Everybody needs beauty…places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul alike. 
John Muir

lost in space…

Spotted near the Hells Canyon Overlook this marooned Martian only managed to scorch a few trees before succumbing to the hot, dry atmosphere of Eastern Oregon…



Civilization is a race between disaster and education. 
H.G. Wells

Joseph, Oregon

Along with being the proximate location for Wallowa Lake and Hells Canyon, it’s the home of Valley Bronze, the foundry that produces marvelous lifesize bronze sculptures. The statues are at various locations in this quaint town.joseph-7211
My favorite, one I kept going back to, was this one titled Attitude Adjustment by Austin Barton.joseph-7213
The action and motion and detail caught in this sculpture is utterly amazing.


My second favorite was the above – Garden Walk by Ramon Parmenter.


Note the marvelous mountains in the background.


Sadly I haven’t been able to locate the name of the artist for this one.


Note Garden Walk across the street…

gone and back…

If anyone missed me, I’m back from a marvelous trip into Oregon’s mountains. I’m still trying to catch up on emails and reading blogs, commenting, etc Have to admit it was a wonderful break, having limited internet access, but catching up has been a challenge. For now, I’ll just give you a glimpse….wallowa-7189Lake Wallowa, the gateway to Hells Canyon. What peace and quiet and bliss look like…. :)

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Mary Oliver

underwater theme

(sort of…?)sixes-6888Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too was a gift. 
Mary Oliver

Sixes to the sea

sixes-6906Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.
Rachel Carson, Silent Spring

the Sixes

Wild afternoon on the Sixes River just before it meets the sea…..Sixes-6879Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness. 
Mary Oliver

with a touch of mist

Somewhere along the south coast of Oregon…..SoCoast-6233Hello, sun in my face. Hello you who made the morning and spread it over the fields…Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness. 
Mary Oliver

cones of a different sort

I’d never seen any like this… still can’t put a name to the tree it belonged to.cone-6843He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make
good neighbors. 
Robert Frost

mountains to climb

Seems the time is approaching to travel some… direction seems to be the only question… or whether there’s snow in the mountains yet?shasta-9361
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t sit still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest. 
Robert W. Service


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