Last weekend I took my dad and husband to the Palouse for a photo field trip. In addition to taking hundreds (if not thousands) of images, we visited the official waterfall of Washington, learned the origin of the term steptoe, and ate our weight in hotel waffles.
The slideshow below includes some of the best photos I took. I can’t wait to see what my dad and Nick created! Click the little arrow at the bottom right of the slideshow to embiggen.
We had such a fun whirlwind romance in West Yellowstone in November. Over the next few months, we savored sweet, stolen kisses in the Methow. My knees became weak with a silly school girl crush.
Yes, I knew our time was limited, but I thought we still had another month together. Then BOOM! You up and disappeared on me.
Your early departure surprises me a little. It feels like I just tipped a teacup back for one last sweet swig only to find nothing there. Or like I got to the top of a staircase, expecting one more step, then found at the last second that one doesn’t exist, and fell suddenly in a chunky, misfit over-step onto the next floor.
Spring has stepped up to fill your shoes rather quickly – an eager suitor that is all too happy to shine a light on your failures. She put on her best dress and a shocking shade of lipstick.
Even though you are gone, I’m reserving a small space in my heart for when we meet again.
Wildfires have burned more than 460 square miles in eastern Washington in the last week. (That’s an area equivalent to the five times the size of Seattle.) It has destroyed an estimated 185 homes. The truly scary part is that as of yesterday this fire is only about 2% contained.
Please send good thoughts to the thousands of fire fighters who are fighting this fire and the thousands of displaced and affected people.
Just a few of the animals we hung out with at NW Trek yesterday. Spring is baby season, and we saw baby deer, buffalo, merganser ducks, goslings, sheep! Alas, not all of them were photogenic.
To celebrate six months of recovery from knee surgery, Nick and I went on a six-day bike tour through Death Valley National Park in March. While some people write the park off as “nothing but nasty rock and salt,” we thought it was amazing. A furnace-like, sub-sea-level basin is surrounded by towering peaks frosted with winter snow. Mud crusted roads are lined with delicate wildflowers. Lush oases harbor tiny fish and refuge for wildlife and humans. It is a land of extremes.
On our fourth day in the park, I left the tour group in the wee pre-dawn hours and rode to Zabriskie Point to photograph sunrise. That solo-ride in and of itself was worth it – pedaling along in silence under blue moonlight. At Zabriskie Point, I waited patiently for almost an hour. The cold desert breeze blew through my thin cycling clothes. Goosebumps grew on my goosebumps. Then, slowly, the sun’s rays illuminated the Panamint Range on the far side of the valley, and night let the park slip through her cool fingers into the waiting arms of another 90-degree day.