One positive about turning the clocks ahead this morning is that it’s easier to catch the sunrise.
For most of you in the US, you changed your clock this morning.
Another huge bonus for me is that for the rest of the month, the time difference between the US west coast and Europe is only 8 hours, so that means that live coverage of the spring cycling races starts at 6am instead of 5am. That’s helpful.
Especially for coffee consumption.
Malheur County, Oregon.
Lines, layers, textures.
Moments become hours, hours become years, years become epochs.
Just a couple of days ago. Unfortunately, not enough for the ski mountain to open.
But just 20 minutes from our driveway. Where I didn’t even have to scrape the windows of the car or shovel the drive.
Just 20 minutes away and I was breaking trail, no hint of human traffic, either visually or aurally.
Same view as Clearing Dusk, just taken some 40 hours later in the early morning light.
Which one do you prefer? And if you do have a preference, why?
A couple of weeks ago, I was able to sit and just be, for just a short time, at a location that, 20 years ago, was my place to go and just be.
Luckily it’s a state park and it hadn’t changed much in those two decades.
It was great to have the quiet place all to myself. All to myself, at least in a human sense.
The thousands of waterfowl there were taking advantage of the relatively warm winter that kept the ponds almost ice-free. They made sure it was not quiet.
Those specks at the top of the frame are some of the birds. Full size, there are a lot of them in this image. Or, as Goddess and I would say, there are a lot of dinners in this image.
The ones in the air are circling, ready to set down on the pond and join the thousands that were already paddling around. You can see the scout dead-center, framed by the clouds, as it dropped down ahead of the flock to make sure everything was safe. But here they are safe. And we’re glad that they can have this sanctuary.
Here’s a full-sized crop from just right of top center:
Lots of dinners.
You might have heard about the sinkhole that opened up under the Corvette Museum in Bowling Green, Kentucky. If not, click here.
Goddess and I had the chance to visit in 2006 and we were quite impressed with the cars, even though neither one of us really liked them before.
But to learn that this 50 year old beauty is sitting in a hole? Damn shame.
A sharp-eyed (read that as knowledgeable) reader pointed out that the Corvette in the pictures is a 1954 Corvette, not the 1962 that I was thinking it was.
I do love the expanse of the desert west. Folks unfamiliar with it think that it’s empty. But the truth is that they haven’t figured out how to see it.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy a change of scenery.
After leaving US 395 and turning east onto US 20 to head through eastern Oregon, the scenery does change as the highway follows the canyon containing the Malheur River.
I was lucky enough to hit the stretch in late afternoon as a storm was clearing. It was a bit dicey, with large patches of ice on the winding road and fairly heavy truck traffic. But I came around the corner, saw this, glanced up the upcoming lane, swerved and managed to stick the car directly in the only firm patch of shoulder that this part of the road had to offer.
It was a great opportunity.
The colors were quite unique, soft because of the cloud cover and setting sun, plus a nice coating of frost on everything.
It looked almost unnatural.