Louët

Day 18: With a "new" antique walking wheel in the house (and in need of repair), my conscience began to nag regarding the llama project which has been sorely neglected of late. I had a recollection that I had been discouraged when one pound of the wool seemed to have gone missing, however when I dug into the trunk of yarns and fabrics, I was delighted to discover that I'd apparently found it at some point and had combined the two bags. A rich, warm tan shade, the fibers are long and silky, and an absolute joy to spin. "Why did I neglect this project for so long?" I asked myself as I sat before the wheel for most of the afternoon yesterday. "And why didn't I buy those batts of blue-green alpaca/wool blend at the Puyallup Fair?"

Even though it will be some time before the walking wheel is back in service, the Louët is out and active. Spinning is a delightful wintertime activity, and I'm grateful for the nudge from an unexpected source which brought me back to the hobby.

A Gift From A Stranger

Day 17: Last Sunday, a minivan pulled into my yard and a woman close to my own age got out and approached my door. Figuring that she was a lost tourist, I stepped outside to help her, but it turned out that she knew exactly where she was headed: my home, to speak with me regarding a spinning wheel in her possession.

Some years ago, she had stopped at my house when I was having a yard sale. I had some hand-spun out in addition to the usual collection of bric-a-brac, and it seems our conversation had turned to spinning. I, of course, had no recollection of this chat, but it had stuck in her mind. Downsizing, she wanted to find a good home for her wheel, somewhere it would be used and cared for. I told her I hadn't been doing much spinning lately, but that I was interested and asked her to name her price. "Nothing," she said. "I want to give it to you." We exchanged phone numbers and I expected that would be the last I heard from her.

Last night, she called and made arrangements to bring the wheel to me. I had no idea what type it was, or whether it was modern as I expected, or perhaps an older model. I was surprised when she unloaded this antique "walking wheel" from her van.

As far as I can tell, it seems to be missing a few small parts, notably the small pegs which hold the Minor's wheel above the spinning head. I've been unable to locate a photo of the exact same type of wheel, but you can rest assured I'll be digging deeper so that I can get this old beauty up and running again.

Fisher's Hornpipe Creek

Day 16: Of the many photos I took today, several are more interesting, more technically correct, more attractive than this view of a nondescript little stream halfway between Pyramid Creek and Devil's Dream Camp, but none holds the personal emotion that this image does.

Four or five years ago, I sat beside Fisher's Hornpipe Creek for as long as I dared tempt the fading hours of daylight, and when at last I said goodbye to my ever-cheerful friend, I fully believed that for reasons of health and age, I would never pass this way again. I walked away with tears in my eyes, and that following winter, their torrent was multiplied by one from Nature which ripped through the Kautz Creek channel with incredible force, tearing away bridges and massive chunks of the forest. Sections of the trail were destroyed, but with other damage in the Park in greater need of immediate repair, hiking paths had a lower priority.

A few days ago, I gave serious consideration to a trip to Fisher's Hornpipe and dismissed it as too far and hard for tender knees. Instead, I opted for a shorter, easier trip which somehow turned out being neither, a fortuitous circumstance which inspired me to do more than sprint around Rampart Ridge today. En route, I discovered that my least favorite section of the trail had been one Mother Nature saw fit to remodel. The new section is overhung with tree roots and rocks which look like they might tumble down any second, but it is nevertheless much easier on the feet than its predecessor. Pyramid Creek Camp has also been relocated away from the stream's present and much broader bed.

Upon seeing the devastation wrought by the flood at the upper Kautz crossing and at Pyramid Creek, I had misgivings regarding what I might find at Fisher's Hornpipe, but when I arrived there, it seemed nothing had changed. The same root mass leans up against the bridge. The same riffles chuckle and the same little falls tumble into the same pools as before. Fisher's Hornpipe is unaltered in its simple beauty, or perhaps it appears that way because I saw it through the eyes of an old friend, returned for an unexpected visit after a long absence.

Woolly Bears And Old Wives

Day 15: Pyrrharctia isabella's stripes do not foretell the weather, old wives' tales notwithstanding. It is a delightful myth, and one which for countless years has given folks something to talk about over the cracker barrel. In truth, the Woolly Bear's bands are a matter of genetics, and any one individual's markings will vary in size over the course of its lifetime, the orange band progressing in width toward each end as the caterpillar matures.

Despite scientific evidence to the contrary, the folklore persists. In searching for my photographic specimen, I found bands of all widths which just goes to prove that no one can predict the weather unfailingly. It's all a guessing game, whether you're a meteorologist working on a long-term outlook or a little caterpillar searching for seasonal lodgings.

Sun-Fleck Forest

Day 14: This month of October has been remarkable in providing exceptional hiking weather at least six days in every ten. Admittedly, I have not taken advantage of all of them, but I have done my share, logging close to 120 miles on foot in the last 27 days. October customarily sees more rainy days than this, so every occasion must be savored.

Today, I set off with a mere 2.5 mile route planned (one-way distance). I reached my goal too quickly to my way of thinking, and in the field, set another. With No-Go-In-Snow and Fly Hill behind me, I changed plans twice more, eventually winding up at a favorite "lunch rock" four and a half miles from my car, having gained 2800' elevation in the process. Had I had another hour and a half to blow, I would have continued on to Indian Henrys Hunting Ground, but I did not want to hike the last miles of the return trip by flashlight. Darkness comes early in the forest.

Yet it is that very darkness and the occasional ray of sun which create a habitat for unique species of plants and fungi which depend on "sun flecks." These species cannot tolerate full sun, but neither can they withstand full shade. Transient sun-flecks such as the one shown in this image are sufficient for their photosynthetic processes, if perhaps not adequate to keep a backpacker from straying off the trail as afternoon turns to evening.

Forest Primeval

Day 13: Deep in the heart of a Pacific Northwest forest lies a land beyond time, a place where dinosaurs still roam the Earth as they did thousands of years ago. It is a place filled with dangers, a secret place where only the most intrepid explorers ever go, and only if they are fortunate enough to find a guide who knows the way. I was there. I saw them with my own two eyes.

Hang on a mo'...dinosaurs? Did you say "dinosaurs?" Uh-huh, I did. Three of 'em. There was a Stegosaurus, a Dimetrodon and a Tyrannosaurus rex. Ol' T-rex looked like he was in the mood for a meal, so I didn't stick around long but before I beat-feeted it out of there, I had time to grab one quick picture as the big guy lumbered down the slope.

Not buyin' the story, eh? The scene is right outside my door in the Land of Lichenopolis and the three thunder lizards are wood carvings my mother accepted in lieu of cash payment for a debt. In my childhood years, they always sat on the top of the hutch, out of reach of young hands which would have regarded them as toys. I'm happy to say they still have a place of honor on a display shelf in my present home. T-rex, despite looking very ferocious, assures me he's gone vegan.

Autumn Paradux

Day 12: Well, what can I say? Who can resist taking pictures of ducks? Today I was near my favorite duck pond with a little time to kill before an appointment, so I went looking for the heron. Didn't find him, but I did find ducks and, as I have done so many times in the past, I stood there like I'd just been given the greatest photo opportunity imaginable, happily snapping pictures of ducks I figured I'd throw away as soon as I got them into the computer. I nearly always toss duck pictures because...well, because everybody takes pictures of ducks.

That said, this little pond has provided me with some great reflections, surrounded as it is by trees of a number of different varieties. Ducks from this pond have crept into my photo files on more than one occasion, despite being so dreadfully cliché. It's been quite amusing to see how these colorful birds' plumage provides camouflage regardless of the season, a paradux to confuse predators indeed!

Cookies And Stream

Day 11: Cookies and stream has always been a dessert I enjoy immensely. No, not "cookies and cream." I meant what I said, said what I meant. When I was very young, my mom would tell me that food tasted best when you ate it outdoors, "particularly soda crackers," she'd add, and give me a handful prior to ushering me outside. I truly believe she was right. Maybe it's because your senses are heightened when you're out in good, clean air, but trail snacks just don't taste the same eaten at the kitchen table.

Today I went for a 5.5 mile stroll (round trip) along the Paradise River between Cougar Rock and Narada Falls. I ran into fresh snow a few hundred feet below the falls, snow which had come down overnight. You can drive and park within a five-minute walk of the Falls' viewpoint, but it was ever so much more rewarding to come up to it on foot. However, with the ease of access from the Road to Paradise, there were a few people at the overlook. I snapped a couple of quick pictures and beat a hasty retreat to privacy a mile back down the way I'd come. I spread my jacket on the wet puncheon bridge which crosses a tributary of Paradise River and sat there, delighted with my dessert of chocolate-chip cookies and stream.

Princess Of Reflection Lake

Day 10: I had gone up to Longmire to photograph a mushroom I'd spotted yesterday, knowing I'd need the tripod for a long exposure. Just for the heck of it, I decided I'd go on up to Reflection Lake. A half mile or so down the Stevens Canyon Road, I noticed Miss Foxy walking toward a pull-out. I got there before she did, but no sooner than I'd stopped, she approached the car looking for a handout. Sorry, lady! We don't feed the wildlife. That's against Park rules, you know.

Undeterred by my refusal to toss her a snack, she sat down about ten feet from my driver's side door and proceeded to give me The Stare. Once or twice, she looked away when she heard a jay calling, but then resumed her vigil. I decided to take a chance on frightening her away and opened the door. She walked about five feet and sat down again. I got out and crouched down to take a few shots at her level. Finally, she must have realized there were no treats forthcoming, so she stood up, stretched like a cat and sauntered off, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder to see if I'd changed my mind.

I think this is probably the same vixen I saw near this spot on July 26th of this year in her "silver phase" coat. I do wish I could put a clause into her contract to read, "Must sit in wildflowers, not on road."

Fawn, A Light Tan Color

Day 9: According to Webster's Third New International Dictionary, fawn is "a variable color averaging a light grayish brown that is yellower, darker, and slightly stronger than Deauville sand." I would refine that definition to read, "specifically, the identical shade seen in the dry grass of Longmire Meadow on an overcast October day."

Earlier in the year, I spotted a rather pregnant doe at this same site, only a few feet from the low wooden fence which gently counsels walkers to stay on the path. Today, she was in the same location with her two offspring, now almost as big as their mother and in fine health. All three were a little shy but by no means afraid, and seemed curious about the camera, walking toward me at first and then turning away when I moved.

Textile Stamps

Day 8: These fabric stamps were given to me for my birthday several years ago by a friend who knows my love of exotic prints quite well. They were meant to be decorative rather than functional and I certainly didn't want to stain them with dye. They are carved from a fragrant wood (possibly sheesham) and the white finish is painted on. Designs such as these are common on "India prints," but are seen displayed here on a Polynesian sarong.

Young Iron

Day 7: In my search for old logging equipment, I've often driven by one spot in Mineral saying, "Drat, I wish I'd remembered that. Now I'll have to go all the way down to Roundtop Rd. before I can turn around. Next time. I'll stop next time." Today, I was going the opposite direction but still sped past (at 25 MPH). I swung into the old school's parking lot and reversed course.

Koutney Logging owns the equipment which sits outside Mineral Mini-Storage. There are several pulleys like this one, in assorted sizes. Roughly, I'd say the height of this one is about 18 inches, width a foot. The letters near the base were added to identify the company to which it belonged.

Bug On A 'Shroom

Day 6: Well, the bad weather is supposed to come in tonight, so I took advantage of the last few moments of sunlight to walk up the Kautz Creek trail on a specific photographic mission. I really had no end point in mind, but by the time I'd gone a mile on the flat to the river crossing, the skies had turned decidedly grey and the temperature had dropped ten degrees. I completed my project and not particularly wanting to hike in rain, took a leisurely stroll back, photographing a merry collection of fungi en route.

The first mile of the Kautz Creek trail passes through young alders, the dominant species since the historic mudflow of 1947. Remnants of old cedars and Douglas fir stick ghostly, pale spires above the canopy, the trees suffocated by the silt brought down in the lahar. The understory is minimal, but rife with lichens, mosses and fungi, a photographer's paradise on a miniature scale.

Necklace Of Sound

Day 5: In the 1940s, plastics were not the commonplace materials they are today. Jars and bottles were still made of glass, and packaging was largely cardboard. Plastic was something of a novelty in those days, something with little use beyond the decorative.

I don't know that I ever saw my mother wear this lovely but impractical necklace of autumn leaves. Beautiful on display perhaps, the necklace does not hang well on the neck, the strands not properly spaced and the leaves too large to be more than a jumble. Nevertheless, the delightful light clattering sound it makes has an appeal all its own, as if the wearer was kicking through tumbledown foliage with the abandon of a child. It is a necklace of sound, jewelry to be handled and not worn, pleasing both ear and eye.

Pinnacle Peak Trail

Day 4: I'd just finished writing to a friend to say that even though it was a pretty day, I felt compelled to stay home because I've been gone too often in the last two weeks. No sooner had I lifted my finger off the "send" button than the irrepressible urge took firm hold, and the next thing I knew, I had my pack packed and was on the road with no specific destination in mind. I wound up at Reflection Lake, the Pinnacle Peak trail once again beckoning me to climb its snow-flecked upper slopes. The call of the trail is hard to deny when the weather is bright and crisp. October's days are some of the finest for alpine travel if you don't mind a little bite in the air.

Better Safe Than Sorry

Day 3: If there is a motto to live by in the realm of mushroom gatherers, it is "Better Safe Than Sorry." While I suspect this beautiful teacup-sized 'shroom of being a member of the Lepiota family and therefore possibly edible, I am by no means certain. Even if I were 99% certain, I would not pick it and prepare it to eat because I would still have a 1% margin for doubt. If you are not 105% certain...make that 110% certain!...of your mushroom identification, do not eat your finds nor allow them to come into contact with any guaranteed-edibles in your basket. The Seattle Mycological Society may still hold their annual "Survivors' Banquet" in the autumn, and it was so named for good reason. There are many species which can only be positively identified by spore prints and/or microscopic examination and some, while not immediately deadly, can cause long-term damage to the liver.

That said, they make delightful photographic subjects.

Oh, Shoot! Knuckle Down!

Day 2: There is little sense in bemoaning a bad situation when there is absolutely no remedy for it. If you don't wish to develop digestive disorders, the best thing you can do is laugh.

Here you see my crop of tomatoes for the year. Not a blush of orange to be seen amongst them, is there? One did turn faintly red, only to explode before fully ripening thanks to a drenching rain. The remainder are as you see them here: little green marbles.

Knuckle down, boys! These are better than steelies!

Gatherer's Gold

Year Two begins!

Day 1: I decided to try my luck on the Hugo Peak trail today with great hopes for a nice fry-up of Chanterelles and maybe a bowl of homemade cream-of-mushroom soup on the side. I packed my 'shroom knife and a plastic bag (and the camera, of course) and set out toward a spot which has rewarded me many times in the past. I found a few small buttons en route..."hardly enough to fill your hollow tooth," as my mother used to say...and then upon reaching Six (an interpretive sign), I scored. By the time I was through picking, I had enough small ones for a light meal.

As long as I was near the top, I went on up to Hugo in the fog, picking up one of the larger mushrooms of the day, but only one. I was a little disappointed because I could see where another picker had beat me to the punch. There was one last hope: head down the 1000 Rd. rather than the trail. At Kirkland Pass, I found three more lovely large 'shrooms and my hopes were realized. Tomorrow night's menu includes a Chanterelle sauté and cream soup with a touch of garlic!

A Nameless Alpine Tarn

Day 365: The first year of 365 Caws began in the mountains, so it is fitting that it closes there today. Following a busy morning, I stopped briefly at home and then continued on up the hill with nothing particular in mind. When I arrived at Reflection Lake late in the day, the trail to Faraway Rock seemed to present a more reasonable destination than the Pinnacle Peak trail, so that was the direction my feet took. Arriving at the top of the rock, I discovered two other hikers, so in search of a private spot, I continued on a short ways, arriving at this nameless alpine tarn which is set atop a high bench of rock. It took me a bit by surprise. Although I've swum its shallow water in years past as a September Morn celebration, I had forgotten it until it presented its crystal-bright mirror before my eyes. It was as if I had met again an old friend with whom I had lost touch, a friend who reminded me to reflect on each moment, each image from the last year's tally of days. In it, I found a restoration of perspective. These things, Nature and my beloved mountains, are why I draw each breath.

I hope you will take a few moments to explore the earlier postings in the first year of 365 Caws, and I invite you to follow along as a second year begins.

Lake Scanewa

Day 364: After a day and night of pelting rain, the scene at Lake Scanewa was almost impossible to believe. Although the lake (a wide spot in the river created by Cowlitz Falls Dam) was significantly muddied, the reflected sky painted it with a wash of color.

A load of salmon had just been trucked in from the Barrier Dam miles downstream and a few fisherfolk were testing the waters with no particular luck despite the fact that the big fish were rolling just beyond the dock. A few boats were parked off shore and the stillness was such that you could hear the boaters' voices in normal conversation. "Maybe we should try shrimp. Did you get shrimp?" "Nope. I got some PowerBait, that's all."

Autumn Impression

Day 363: The seasons slip by so quickly. The autumn colors had barely begun to touch the leaves ten days ago, and now the wind plucks them from branches with the lightest touch. A bird alighting among the branches inspires a shower of reds and golds to tumble into the pale and fading grass. Seen too closely, brown edges appear, and holes made by insects. The beauty is in the quick glance, the broader perspective, the total canvas. Therein is the poetry of the dying season and its splendor, an impression of color on the eye and on the spirit.

Crow Tree October

Day 362: Standing apart in the pasture, a solitary maple is a favored gathering place for the local crows. From it, they can keep an eye on Clyde's place and mine as well as another neighbor's yard where handouts are frequently dispensed. In the winter months when the leaves have fallen, it's not uncommon to see several dozen sharp black silhouettes perched among the limbs, and it only takes one "Caw-caw-caw!" from me to lift them into the air and toward the crow board in anticipation of breakfast.

This image was created from a color photo which was tonemapped and rendered into infrared.

Color At Dogwood Park

Day 361: I knew I would have very little opportunity for a personal photo shoot today, although my camera was very much in service documenting a dear friend's 90th birthday for the family. En route to the festivities, I swung by Dogwood Park outside Eatonville and took a few quick snapshots of autumn color in the landscaping. Maintained by the Eatonville Garden Club, the park is less than half an acre but is lavishly planted with both native and non-native species and on a clear day, provides a lovely full view of Mt. Rainier rising above an open pasture and its foothills.

Dew Point

Day 360: As my first year of 365 Caws draws to a close, I wake each morning wondering how I will find something new to photograph. Invariably, I am surprised by what comes before my lens, seemingly through no planning on my part. I often go out with something specific in mind, invariably returning with an image entirely beyond what I had anticipated.

This photo is something I've tried to capture repeatedly, but have never been pleased with the results. Today, I stepped into the pasture in the golden hour and was rewarded with a few minutes of glancing, dancing light passing among dew-spangled grass heads. It was not what I had gone out for, but like a bright penny glistening on the path, I brought it home with all the delight of a child.

Nigella, Love-In-A-Mist

Day 359: A favorite for anyone who enjoys making dried arrangements, the seed pods of Love-In-A-Mist hold a unique grace, surrounded as they are by lacy tendrils. Although they are somewhat fragile, if kept in a spot away from curious paws and hands, they will endure for years, eventually losing color until they become a uniform and warm beige with a touch of rose. Pick as soon as the pods swell, hang upside-down in an airy warm place and you will have a touch of summer year-'round.

Blue Grouse Portrait

Day 358: Hiking in the fresh snow above Paradise today, I ran into a clutch of three Blue Grouse at the top of Alta Vista. Not at all shy around me, I was able to get a number of shots both distant and close up. In fact, they were so busy pecking seeds off the ground that I had to whistle, stamp my feet, cough and make any variety of other noises to get them to look up. This image was taken at 74x zoom (digital) at a distance of approximately ten feet from the bird. It has not been cropped, although I did have to adjust brightness and contrast rather heavily because the mist between us was very dense.

Elk In Autumn

Day 357: Sculptor Dan Klennert of Recycled Spirits of Iron has converted his property into a free gallery for tourists who are en route to Mt. Rainier's Nisqually entrance. Two miles outside of Elbe WA on Hwy 706, you can't miss it. One of the main features is a life-sized giraffe which stands close to the road. Real-life elk pasture nearby but can't be relied upon to be available for photographing, but this sculpture will definitely do for a "stand-in."

Horse Chestnuts

Day 356: For years now, I've been saying I'd collect Horse Chestnuts in the fall to see if I could get a few to sprout, but I never seemed to be around a Horse Chestnut tree on a timely basis. Today, I remedied that. The proverbial "spreading chestnut tree" stands at the Community Center adjacend to Gust Backstrom Park in Morton. It is still heavily laden, but there were plenty on the ground. Strangely, they were all rather small as Horse Chestnuts go, so I'm hoping they're not a sterile variety. In any event, I came home with my pocket full of peeled ones ready to put in the ground, and I'll probably make at least one more collecting run in a couple of weeks.

A Tiny Harvest

Day 355: Years ago, I saw a display of very realistic beaded blackberries, life-sized. Although I have yet to make any for myself, the seeds for other beaded edibles were planted in my mind and eventually, I settled on creating Indian Corn using "crow" beads. Crow beads are rather large, so I wrapped layers of felt around cores of raffia and left the ends protruding as peeled-back "corn husks." The finished cobs were about two and a half inches long excluding husks. They looked quite like the ears of miniature Indian Corn you find in grocery stores at this time of year.

Nevertheless, when I do needlework or crafts of any type, I tend to lean toward the smaller scale, crocheting with a fine hook or knitting with the smaller gauge needles. I decided to attempt the same basic corn pattern using #13 beads. For the husks, I used leather because the raffia was too fragile at this scale. The ear of corn you see here is less than three-quarters of an inch long.

A Nice Fry-Up

Day 354: Our recent spell of rainy weather has brought the first Chanterelles out of hiding! I spotted pickers yesterday, emerging from a spot within a mile of home, so knowing that they'd have missed a few, I stuck a plastic sack in one pocket and my 'shroom knife in the other and set off on foot in search of dinner.

With the upswing in commercial picking, it's getting harder and harder for the locals to find this annual delight. I have gone several years without finding enough for a single bowl of soup, but two years ago, I found a patch which is apparently too long a hike to interest the harvesters. Finding them near home is unusual, to say the least. I always take care not to over-harvest any one patch, leaving a few as "seeds." I'm quite content to have one or two nice dinner fry-ups each year, perhaps supplemented with a bowl of rich, creamy soup, and consider anything beyond that a bonus.

Vine Maple Reds

Day 353: The morning dawned rainy and cold, and I had work to do at Mt. Rainier National Park. A friend was hosting a geocaching CITO ("cache in, trash out") event, looking for volunteers to help close down a campground for the winter. Our jobs were to pick up debris, tear down the temporary housing (big canvas tents) used by Student Conservation Association volunteers during the summer, stack the tent platforms so that they can be covered with tarps and tip up the picnic tables so they won't be collapsed by the weight of snow. We worked for three hours to complete the tasks, including hauling away several pickup loads of downed limbs. It rained lightly during the first hour, but we'd all come prepared.

After the work was done and I was ready to head homeward, I took a few detours in search of photographic subjects. This Vine Maple (Acer circinatum) was growing in a landscape planting at Longmire. Washington's infamous white skies provided the perfect backdrop for its lovely Autumn colors. This seems to be a "red year," one of those rare occasions when the Vine Maple puts on its best show. "Red years" are determined by many factors including temperature and soil moisture, and many times, the trees simply turn yellowish orange and then go brown.