Backcountry In My Bones

Day 169: Backcountry is in my bones, in my blood, in my soul. When I was still in my single-digit years, my favorite uncle worked as a forest ranger in the same district where I served some twenty years later. Already a creature of the woods, I nagged him until he obtained special permission for me to stay with him at his duty station. He suspected the long, steep hike would be more than a young girl could manage, but every time he shed his pack and sat down to rest, I was running ahead on the trail to see what was around the next bend.

Staying in the cabin was delightful, sharing meals of griddle-cooked pancakes with the local bear, going fishing in the Park rowboat stashed at the shelter by the lake, exploring the meadows and creeks, and discovering wildflowers the likes of which I'd never seen. The adventure was what mattered, never mind the mosquitoes. At night, he'd read stories aloud from "Amazing Science Fiction" and when the spooky tales were done, I'd watch with delicious fright the lingering blue glow of the kersone lamp as it flickered out of existence.

During the ten days I was with him there, we took many short hikes. While out on a water-getting trip, I found the bone. Convinced that it was a Tyrannosaurus Rex's finger joint, I wanted to take it home for my collection of fossils. Gus said no. It was too heavy, he claimed, for me to lug out in my pack despite the fact that I'd carried 35 pounds in. He took it from me and laid it beside the cabin porch.

When we began packing to leave, he noticed that the bone was gone from its spot. Sure enough, he found it atop the gear in my backpack. After several unsuccessful attempts to prevent me from taking it home, he took it and hid it underneath the cabin and supposedly without my knowledge. I knew I had one last chance, so I bided my time.

Right before we started the nine-mile hike back to our starting point, I made one last trip to the privy and while he was off paying a similar visit to a tree, I buried the bone deeply beneath my clothing and other items. He was none the wiser until we got back to my house, at which point I received the expected lecture but was allowed to keep my prize.

That was over fifty years ago. The bone (elk thigh) is perhaps my most prized possession. It signifies many things, from a life choice and my destiny to the dogged determination which has so often carried me into both success and trouble over the decades. It holds the memories of a man dear to me, and of a place I cherish even now. It is fitting that it is shown here with Gus' 1928 map and my own compass, a bridge between present and past.

Crowds Of Daffodils

Day 168: Although it's not quite April, I thought this old song was appropriate to the weather.

April Showers

Life is not a highway strewn with flowers,
Still it holds a goodly share of bliss.
When the sun gives way to April showers,
Here is the point you should never miss:
Though April showers may come your way,
They bring the flowers that bloom in May,
So if it's raining, have no regrets
Because it isn't raining rain, you know...
It's raining violets.
And where you see clouds upon the hills,
You soon will see crowds of daffodils.
So keep on looking for a blue bird
And list'ning for his song
Whenever April showers come along.

Spring Cleaning, 1947

Day 167: I've been participating in a photo group called Daily Shoot for almost a year now, and if I have learned one thing from it, it is that a good photographer needs to be versatile. When today's assignment asked for an image illustrating being indoors, I wanted to create a unique presentation rather than simply taking a shot of some object common to a household.

For an hour or so, the cobwebs hung thickly in my mind as I walked from room to room looking for inspiration. I was getting nowhere fast, and decided to get some overdue housework out of the way while I paced. It was while I was vacuuming that the idea for this shot was conceived. After all, what's more "indoor" than Spring cleaning?

I knew I wanted the "Ozzie and Harriet" or "Donna Reed Show" look for my model (myself), so I started digging in drawers for make-up left over from my harp-playing days. I found everything I needed except lipstick, so a surrogate was applied with a reddish-brown eyebrow pencil. The image begged to be shot in black-and-white anyway, so color didn't matter. The dress, the pearls, the Aunt Jemima bandanna and those horrendous shoes seemed to assemble themselves without any particular planning on my part. The final touch was good old Parson's Sudsy, a product which has been around for decades.

The Sham Shamrock - Oxalis Oregana

Day 166: It is not a shamrock. It is not a member of the clover family, despite its resemblance to it. It is in fact Oxalis oregana or Wood Sorrel, a common plant of Pacific Northwest forests. Shown here against a spray of cedar, the furry-edged trefoil leaves span approximately two inches at this stage of growth. A single five-petalled white flower with fine pink veination will arise as the plant matures, often appearing in masses where clusters of the plant exist side-by-side. Although eaten by Native peoples, ingestion is not recommended since the leaves contain high amounts of oxalic acid which may lead to development of kidney stones.

Highclimber's Friend

Day 165: I'd stopped to take a few photos of the iron highclimber at Morton's Veterans' and Loggers' Memorial, and no sooner than I got within range, a couple of my friends flew up from the nearby greensward. I wasn't surprised when one of them alighted on the highclimber's head, but it was only when I zoomed in that I noticed he'd brought his own lunch.

Pinky

Day 164: Dark-Eyed Juncos (Junco hyemalis) come in a variety of forms. Some authorities consider them as different sub-species. However with much interbreeding between the variants, it's difficult to draw a distinct line. This particular bird is a good example of the lighter colored form of "Oregon" Junco. The flanks have a broader and rosier area of color and the head is sooty grey instead of black, similar to that exhibited by the Pink-Sided species found in the Rocky Mountain states. It is uncertain whether the light form is a sub-species variation or due to intermingling with the Rocky Mountain genotype.

Intermittent Beauty

Day 163: Intermittent streams are flowing merrily at this point in time, fed by runoff from snow melt. By the end of July, many will be reduced to mere trickles. This one may cease to exist entirely. For now, it greets anyone who turns onto the West Side Road just beyond the gateway to Mt. Rainier National Park, a small corner of beauty tucked in a narrow defile.

Model Forest Trail

Day 162: The Model Forest Trail at Charles L. Pack Experimental Forest is exactly what it says it is: a model of Pack Forest. It occupies an area a couple hundred feet on a side, set beside the gatehouse to the larger version and was carefully created to reproduce the terrain of Pack Forest on a miniature scale. Here you may walk the looping 1000 Rd. in a matter of ten minutes or summit Hugo Peak in five. You can explore the depths of the Nisqually Canyon from a precipitous twelve inches from its bottom. The Model Forest Trail is a charming place where you can pretend you're Paul Bunyan, striding across the miles in seven-league boots, and at the same time, you can observe most, if not all, of the major species of plants present in Pack.

Cardamine Nuttalli, Var. Nuttallii

Day 161: Cardamine (Bittercress) comes into bloom in early spring before deciduous trees come into full leaf. Several species are found in western Washington and all are crucifers, which is to say they bear four petals, sometimes notched as these are. This species is also sometimes known as Cardamine pulcherrima ("beautiful"). This single specimen was found growing in open woodland among Red Alders.

Uncle Skunk

Day 160: "Uncle Skunk" was the nickname given to Lysichitum americanum by native peoples who used the root as a food source. The Yellow Skunk Cabbage of the Pacific Northwest is one of the first flowering plants to emerge in the Spring, the showy spathes often breaking through snow before the leaves show green. Its unmistakable odor gives it its common name.

Uncle Skunk was my mother's favorite flower despite its strong scent. Its habit of appearing in swamplands associates it closely with frogs and tadpoles, both of which held places close to her heart. Each year, I begin watching for Uncle Skunk's emergence in early to mid-March, but almost without exception, some specimens can be found within a few days of equinox. It is then that memories of my mom run most strongly, as if in some way her spirit now resides contentedly with Uncle Skunk, watching new generations of frogs following on the heels of the old.

Gritty Old Gal

Day 159: There are days when, for old times' sake, I would love to thread some Ilford black-and-white film into this true-and-trusted piece of purely mechanical technology and take her out for a climb or a hike, or even just for a walk in the woods when the wildflowers start to open their bright eyes in the dark, shady corners. I pick her up and the memories of summits flood my mind: Mt. Rainier, Mt. Adams, Mt. Shasta; I recall the Wonderland Trail and how she malfunctioned and froze up, reluctant to wink her shutter at 7800' on the third day in, and how I sat down on a rock with her on my knee to disassemble her, piece by piece, using a screwdriver meant for eyeglasses and a Swiss Army knife. After I'd shaken the sand out of her mechanisms, I gave her a couple of good hard whacks, put her back together, whereupon she performed admirably for many more years to follow.

She is to date fully functional, but has been supplanted by an upstart digital which will probably never take as many photos as she did in her years. Let's see...this is the fifth or sixth digital I've had since I put her to bed on the shelf. She's older than all their ages combined.

Yes, I should light the fire in her heart again, take her for a stroll down Memory Lane, wine-and-dine her with Ilford monochrome with some Fujicolor for dessert. Your first true love is one you'll never forget, and this gritty old gal was mine.

Pipilo Maculatus

Day 158: Roger Tory Peterson calls this bird "Rufous-Sided Towhee" in his "Field Guide to Western Birds," so I may be forgiven referring to it as such despite the fact that David Allen Sibley calls it "Spotted Towhee." In any event, Pipilo maculatus is a handsome robin-sized member of the family of Finches, its heavy bill designed for cracking tough seeds. Towhee's vivid coloration and his bright red eye makes him easy to distinguish from the American Robin or the Varied Thrush although the eye is brown in young birds. Towhees exhibit a distinctive behaviour when feeding as well. The bird stands in place and then thrusts itself backward, the front talons raking the ground. This motion frees trapped seeds, making them easier to find.

Corvus Brachyrhynchos, My Kind Of Guy

Day 157: Corvus brachyrhynchos is slightly larger than Corvus caurinus and has a marginally deeper, hoarser voice. So says David Allen Sibley in "The Sibley Guide to Birds." I suspect that the dividing line is rather indistinct in areas such as mine where the two populations overlap because like the forms of Dark-Eyed Juncos, the species interbreed. In any event, I don't ask for identification for admission to the breakfast table. This fellow expected seconds this morning. Who could possibly deny that pointed stare?

Sum, Ergo Cogito

Day 156: Although the works of Carlos Castaneda have been criticized by many as fabrications, there is certainly some element of fact in the material they contain. I speak particularly of his protagonist's frequent references to "shutting off the internal dialogue" as a requirement for true meditation.

Man is a thinker. His mind is filled with images and words, distractions to the goal of harmony. To illustrate what I mean, let's do a simple experiment which was put forth by one of my early teachers: don't think about a pink handkerchief. Can you get the pink handkerchief out of your mind? It keeps coming back like the bad penny as you try not to think about it because you persistently say to yourself, "I'm not supposed to think about that." Schooling in proper meditational techniques will allow you to put that obnoxious pink handkerchief away in a mental drawer.

I find that solitude, if perhaps not mandatory for success at meditation, is at least beneficial toward achieving the goal. The simpler the subject, the easier it is to experience it without the complication of verbal thought.

Build-Your-Own Kaleidoscope

Day 155: Last Autumn, I bought three build-your-own kaleidoscope kits from my favorite "geek store," Edmund Scientific. One I kept for myself, and the other two were sent as Christmas gifts to my dear friends and sisters-of-the-heart, Alison and Patty. Just recently, Alison mailed me a handful of glass beads to supplement the variety which came in the kit, so today I threw a handful in and got out the camera. I have to admit that playing with a kaleidoscope with interchangeable parts is a lot more fun than a "single use" model!

Steller's Jay

Day 154: Georg Wilhelm Steller was a German naturalist who lived from 1709 to 1746, leading a short but adventurous life filled with discovery. It is for him that the Steller's Jay is named, as well as many other species which he was first to record including the Sea Cow and Sea Otter. He travelled with explorer Vitus Bering and survived the expedition which was to cost Bering his life.

This beautiful bird is common in much of rural western Washington. Various populations are reported as being shy, while others are known to be very forward toward animals and humans alike. A member of the corvid family, these birds are quite intelligent. They are daily visitors to my feeders at any time of year.

Understated Elegance

Day 153: Goldfish Plant (Nematanthus "Black Gold") has waxy leaves resembling those of Hoya bella and bears orange blossoms shaped in a manner which gave the plant its common name. This plant came to me as a slip from my friend Alison last Autumn. It has recently put on an amazing spurt of new growth which I am hoping will soon be followed by dozens of little "goldfish."

Remember Sendai

Day 152: Years ago, during the months of summer while my uncle was visiting Sendai, we received reports of an earthquake. The media here in the US showed footage of trembling buildings and fleeing citizens, so the family was surprised when Lee's monthly postcard came with no mention of the event. When he returned home, he was equally surprised by the number of friends who descended upon him wanting to know about his experience. Oh, he had heard about the earthquake, but although he'd been near the epicenter, he'd felt nothing. As the story came out, we realized that the TV stations had shown stock films, not images from the actual event during which, as Lee described it, "people went about doing business as usual." Because of this, the phrase "Remember Sendai?" became a buzzword between us, the inference being that perhaps one should take news reports with a grain of salt.

I am not telling this story through any disbelief of current events. I am telling it simply to place Sendai in a familial reference. To my uncle, Sendai was a special place, a place where he felt at home when he was away from home, a place with which he felt a deep spiritual connection. He would often spend time sitting at a shrine or in a garden there, connected to a vaster universe. Sendai was an essential part of Lee's humanity.

Today, we do not know how many of his acquaintances have survived. Undoubtedly, the ryokans where he stayed are gone, and the temples and the gardens. For him, I have created this image, and I ask that my readers also remember Sendai.

Treasure Box

Day 151: In this small box are treasures. They come from somewhere near, but somewhere very far away. They aren't worth a penny, and yet are priceless. Physical and at the same time memories, these few bits of wildflower floss, dried grass and twigs are the essence of the domain of my spirit, of my heart. Today I opened the box, that I might experience the Hope it holds within its fragrant cedarwood frame.

Junco In A Rainstorm

Day 150: It is hard to believe that I am already 150 photos into my 365 Caws project. It seems like I began working on it only a few weeks ago. I decided to celebrate today with an artistic interpretation of one of my favorite subjects, i.e., a bird of any sort perched in the contorted filbert. I never have a shortage of subjects, although the variety is somewhat limited during the winter months. Dark-Eyed Juncos and Steller's Jays are always willing to oblige, and less often, the Spotted Towhees or Song Sparrows. Light rain and the Pacific Northwest's trademark grey provided the perfect backdrop for the lovely and delicate hues of my model's feathers.

Knocking At The Door

Day 149: Forsythia! I was simply amazed to find this bush in bloom beside the Stage Stop Museum in Eatonville today. The one in my yard is barely showing buds. Now we can no longer deny the message these wonderful yellow flowers are sending: We are the pioneers of the season! Spring is here! Spring is here!

My Mother The Frog

Day 148: An explanation of the title of this image would require several pages covering the complex spiritual kinship system practiced by the Australian Aborigines of old. Indeed, many still hold with the traditional beliefs today, if often privately and under a superficial cloak of more generally accepted religions. There is something of the Native American "totem" in this theology, much of the animist, and even more of a bond with all things in Nature. The rules dictate marriage and other social relationships, and carry with them certain obligations to the "spirit" represented. It is all part of the Dreaming (also called the Dreamtime).

Suffice it to say that, as many of my readers know, I am a Crow. My mother was a Frog, and this soapstone carving was one of her keepsakes. When my mother passed away, the stories from her Dreaming...the history of how Frog created Mystic Lake on the north side of Mt. Rainier, for example...came to me to tell along with those of Raven and Crow. Some day, this little fellow will reveal to me why he is smiling so cheerfully. For now, I will just have to wonder

Highlight On Tip

Day 147: Curled up in my chair after a nice bath, Tip's fur simply shone in what little sunlight was filtering through the clouds. I thought to take a simple profile portrait of him, but we've been down that road many times. I decided instead to focus on his highlights for this abstract representation.

Crocus Rising

Day 146: This valiant crocus deserved special treatment, spotlighting its joyful stripes and bright hues today. Seeing these delightful buds at my doorstep after a long winter, it is as if their spirits leap into my eye, overshadowing any other color in the garden. The crocuses are a billboard advertising Spring: Buy now! Don't wait 'til Summer!

Ready To Tie One On

Day 145: As soon as trout season opens in beaver ponds and streams, I am ready to tie one on. Unfortunately, I have to wait until June 1 for this momentous occasion, and even then, the waters I enjoy fishing will probably be too cold for the fish to be actively feeding. For a while, I may resort to catching hatchery-raised "cuttbows" (a rainbow/cutthroat hybrid) just to keep my casting arm limber, but I am truly looking forward to hitting a few secret spots later on in the season. Although I am primarily a catch-and-release angler, there are times when pan-fried brook trout are a lure I simply cannot resist.

"There are thousands of places to fish and we, after all, are fishermen. Therefore, life is good."
~John Gierach, in "Standing In A River Waving A Stick"

"The charm of fly-fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope."
~John Buchan

Count The Species

Day 144: Here is a little exercise to amuse you, and perhaps to give you a better idea of the biodiversity this wonderful world has to offer. The view here is a 3 x 4 proportion, approximately six inches on the short side, eight inches on the long. Sit for a minute and study it closely. The species shown are visually distinct from one another, and no, I couldn't hope to name them all. How many can you see? Look again!

You'll find identifications for some of them in previous photos. Please feel free to browse through!

West To East

Day 143: East Creek feeds Alder Lake from the south. If you want to reach East Creek, you park at the highway and walk west. Despite its name, East Creek is seemingly east of nothing except timber country, a fact which amuses me no end.

During periods of high water, the grassland shown here is submerged. In fact, the view shot in "East Creek, The Old-Fashioned Way" was taken at reservoir maximum, looking 180° from a spot only a few feet away from where I stood today. This periodic flooding creates excellent habitat for all sorts of birds and wildlife, including at least one beaver whose tree-felling skills were much in evidence.

Who You Callin' Chicken?

Day 142: It is officially Spring! The baby chicks have arrived at feed stores! These little girls were more than willing to ham it up for the camera today. The trouble was that they were scrabbling over and under each other, pecking here, scratching there, looking for tasty tidbits in the pelletized filler lining the bottom of their galvanized washtub pen.

For all you city slickers out there, this is what you get if you let an egg hatch. Think about this cute little face the next time you chow down on an omelette! Did I really say "ham" in the first paragraph? Oh dear!

Indian Plum

Day 141: Indian Plum (Oemleria cerasiformis) bears a panicle of yellowish-white trumpet-shaped flowers in early spring, often emerging before the leaves. The flowers are followed by an edible but insipid blue-black berry. This less-than-appealing fruit was eaten by Native peoples mixed with the fat rendered from eulachon, a small fish resembling a smelt. Such fare gave rise to a pioneer staple called pemmican.

This shrub is also known as Osoberry, "oso" being the Spanish word for "bear." The popular terminology generates some understandable confusion with a ground-cover plant called kinnikinick which also goes by the common name of "bearberry." The nomenclature makes no difference to the bears who are content to eat either fruit.

An Influential Man

Day 140: Theodor Seuss Geisel was a profound influence upon a young Crow who grew up reading his shorts when they appeared in "LOOK" magazine. His wacky manipulations of words affected me more strongly than his off-beat cartoons because even as a child, my fascination with language was already quite apparent. Today, upon the anniversary of this great man's birth, I would like to pay tribute to Dr. Seuss. You see in this image an obscure collection of his early works, and a personal letter to me from the great man himself, typed on his very own manual typewriter. It is one of my most treasured keepsakes.

Theodor Seuss Geisel - March 2, 1904 to September 24, 1991
Thank you, sir, for all those remarkable words!

Allegro Con Brio

Day 139: You might describe the tempo as "light and bright," although the translation is something more along the lines of "quickly, with vigor," and if ever there was anything a winter day needed more than light and vigor, I surely don't know what it might be. It's a good day for Haydn, and you may take that for a play on words if you will. I have a whole Liszt of things I'd rather be doing than sitting here watching rain and snow come down, and I need to do some serious Chopin, but I can't get out of my driveway. We've had Bach to Bach snowstorms for a week now. I just can't Handel any more.