cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Scottish Lakes Cabin, Eastern WA
A Gallery: Delights & Splendors of Cascadia
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Scottish Lakes Cabin, Eastern WA
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Ode to the Nuthatch
Oh little character so small,
you entertain me now in Fall,
a comic piece of Nature’s art,
your body streamlined as a dart.
Upright, sideways, upside down,
you acrobatic, tiny clown –
sharp upturned beak and bandit eyes,
each day you come to tantalize
and lift my spirits from the grey
of sadness on a rainy day.
And even strolling through the park,
I catch you clinging to the bark
just out of range on tallest trees,
your “Yank! Yank!” call upon the breeze!
You make me laugh, you make me smile
and savor freedom for a while.
Then back, outside my window’s pane
you join the Juncos once again,
oh little character so small –
Come! Entertain me now in Fall…
© Annie Pang November 3, 2014.
Victoria, BC
Oh little character so small,
you entertain me now in Fall,
a comic piece of Nature’s art,
your body streamlined as a dart.
Upright, sideways, upside down,
you acrobatic, tiny clown –
sharp upturned beak and bandit eyes,
each day you come to tantalize
and lift my spirits from the grey
of sadness on a rainy day.
And even strolling through the park,
I catch you clinging to the bark
just out of range on tallest trees,
your “Yank! Yank!” call upon the breeze!
You make me laugh, you make me smile
and savor freedom for a while.
Then back, outside my window’s pane
you join the Juncos once again,
oh little character so small –
Come! Entertain me now in Fall…
© Annie Pang November 3, 2014.
Victoria, BC
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Fog in Willamette Valley, OR
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Oh the BC ferries - how I love thee
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Mount St. Helens
Mount St. Helens
John Calderazzo
never seen it from an airplane of high ridge
a tremendous bell of rock & snow
ringing with noonday light
drawing miles of forests
to attention.
Only later
did I see the photographs
the years of dawns and dusks
its Fuji summit glowed bright pink
a paper lantern floating over clouds
as though its secret heart of fire
had been blazing all that time.
Many-named volcano
Loowit Smoke Mountain St. Helens.
And who was Helen?
Saint of Burning Stone
plumming up through crust glaciers sky?
Holy Mother of Earth dreaming of new earth?
A tower of pumice & ash twelve miles high
blackened that rattling Sunday morning
full of sun
while half a country east
I nursed a breakfast hung over most likely
& unaware that rocks could boil & fly
that the planet could regrow itself
from its own burning core
over and over.
Those days
I lived in grey weather
I hardly saw the ash ferried through
Cascades Rockies rolling Great Plains skies
to the flat farms of northwest Ohio
fine deep-Earth moon flakes
misting down on
their circling of the globe
as I churned
through Rita Joanie Whoever
cracking myself open I told myself
but giving off such stingy light.
If only I'd known
the basement philosophy of volcanoes
that sooner or later everything comes unstuck
& moves in a deep time stew
convecting beyond my life your life
beyond evacuation
& life or country or culture
except for the culture
of constant change & renewal.
Maybe that volcano dust began to work
on me.
Easy to talk about myself I realize
so far from the giant blow-down forests
that pinned the dead
though not anyone I knew
not even a landscape
I knew well enough to mourn
blasted in seconds into miles & decades
of moonslope
four-foot-thick shattered trees
that men & women I have since met
vowed to protect with their science
to nurse through illness
their hearts
still bruised after twenty-five years
though who could have stopped
that fast forward pestilence
flattening Doug firs
in Sasquatch- & owl haunted shadows
& Spirit Lake so quickly gorged
with everything but blue water.
When the bulge broke
the mountain became mythology.
Snow flashed to steam
& frozen soil to scalding mud.
Torrents choked with boulders
swelled the North Fork of the Toutle
with upturned elk boiled fish
something I never want to see
again said a man I met this year
baiting a hook along that river
as Loowit smoked again
though mildly.
But when the top & flank
blew off the mountain
the wet concrete
took a house & slammed
it into a bridge
two stories torn neatly open.
On video a half-house spills
a bed a couch a fridge.
The Earth can ruin you with its riches
vaults flung open to free
a glowing avalanche
a stone wind stabbed by lighting
Spirit Lake still clogged
with tree trunks whitening like bones
floating & shifting by the century
or the rippled millisecond
the long & short
of terrestrial evolution
mindquakes that make you yammer
against God buried fire the split personality
of the planet.
Or sob with hope
because Saint Helen
at least the Swedish martyr Helen of Skofde
was launched in a stone coffin
that refused to sink
that spawned a healing spring
wherever it bumped ashore.
And elk now crowd Loowit valleys.
And soil that dropped sizzling from the sky
cooled then cupped the seeds
that wandered in
on long shoulders of wind
or pushed up as shoots
of pearly everlasting Noble fir fireweed.
Packed down shields of devastations
loosened & finally opened
to the sun
as I have since then
having learned to slow down
& travel far
having learned
to sit in the new light
of this Smoke Mountain & others
Mont Pele'e Soufriere Hills
Redoubt Vesuvius Etna
which let me watch and feel
how time's snapped bones re-knit
how so many kinds of gray
can turn green.
Mount St. Helens
John Calderazzo
~after twenty-five years
Before it blew in 1980 I had never heard of itnever seen it from an airplane of high ridge
a tremendous bell of rock & snow
ringing with noonday light
drawing miles of forests
to attention.
Only later
did I see the photographs
the years of dawns and dusks
its Fuji summit glowed bright pink
a paper lantern floating over clouds
as though its secret heart of fire
had been blazing all that time.
Many-named volcano
Loowit Smoke Mountain St. Helens.
And who was Helen?
Saint of Burning Stone
plumming up through crust glaciers sky?
Holy Mother of Earth dreaming of new earth?
A tower of pumice & ash twelve miles high
blackened that rattling Sunday morning
full of sun
while half a country east
I nursed a breakfast hung over most likely
& unaware that rocks could boil & fly
that the planet could regrow itself
from its own burning core
over and over.
Those days
I lived in grey weather
I hardly saw the ash ferried through
Cascades Rockies rolling Great Plains skies
to the flat farms of northwest Ohio
fine deep-Earth moon flakes
misting down on
their circling of the globe
as I churned
through Rita Joanie Whoever
cracking myself open I told myself
but giving off such stingy light.
If only I'd known
the basement philosophy of volcanoes
that sooner or later everything comes unstuck
& moves in a deep time stew
convecting beyond my life your life
beyond evacuation
& life or country or culture
except for the culture
of constant change & renewal.
Maybe that volcano dust began to work
on me.
Easy to talk about myself I realize
so far from the giant blow-down forests
that pinned the dead
though not anyone I knew
not even a landscape
I knew well enough to mourn
blasted in seconds into miles & decades
of moonslope
four-foot-thick shattered trees
that men & women I have since met
vowed to protect with their science
to nurse through illness
their hearts
still bruised after twenty-five years
though who could have stopped
that fast forward pestilence
flattening Doug firs
in Sasquatch- & owl haunted shadows
& Spirit Lake so quickly gorged
with everything but blue water.
When the bulge broke
the mountain became mythology.
Snow flashed to steam
& frozen soil to scalding mud.
Torrents choked with boulders
swelled the North Fork of the Toutle
with upturned elk boiled fish
something I never want to see
again said a man I met this year
baiting a hook along that river
as Loowit smoked again
though mildly.
But when the top & flank
blew off the mountain
the wet concrete
took a house & slammed
it into a bridge
two stories torn neatly open.
On video a half-house spills
a bed a couch a fridge.
The Earth can ruin you with its riches
vaults flung open to free
a glowing avalanche
a stone wind stabbed by lighting
Spirit Lake still clogged
with tree trunks whitening like bones
floating & shifting by the century
or the rippled millisecond
the long & short
of terrestrial evolution
mindquakes that make you yammer
against God buried fire the split personality
of the planet.
Or sob with hope
because Saint Helen
at least the Swedish martyr Helen of Skofde
was launched in a stone coffin
that refused to sink
that spawned a healing spring
wherever it bumped ashore.
And elk now crowd Loowit valleys.
And soil that dropped sizzling from the sky
cooled then cupped the seeds
that wandered in
on long shoulders of wind
or pushed up as shoots
of pearly everlasting Noble fir fireweed.
Packed down shields of devastations
loosened & finally opened
to the sun
as I have since then
having learned to slow down
& travel far
having learned
to sit in the new light
of this Smoke Mountain & others
Mont Pele'e Soufriere Hills
Redoubt Vesuvius Etna
which let me watch and feel
how time's snapped bones re-knit
how so many kinds of gray
can turn green.
Last edited:
Susurration
Whispering softly
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- Dec 18, 2007
- Posts
- 23,493
Nuthatches came to my parent's garden for the first time ever last winter. It hasn't been cold enough for them to make a return visit this year, but we're keeping our fingers crossed.
Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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- Sep 20, 2005
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cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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I've stood on that bridge more than once...
Hi Shankara
that place - has healing properties.
Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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Hi Shankara
that place - has healing properties.
That indeed, and good hot dogs.
More info on the hot dogs later....
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Summit Ridge ... North Cascades National Park
Ooooohhhh... Beautiful Tom!
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Winter Trees in Cascadia
Last edited:
numeniusa
Probably naked...
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Beautiful Vancouver Island, BC
Gorgeous...
Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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Heceta Head Lighthouse, Central Coast of Oregon
Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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L
La damnee elle la licorne
Guest
FantasySlut
Literotica Guru
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cascadiabound Quick stop by for me
but absolutely stunning pictures, just beautiful
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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This thread....beautiful pictures, beautiful people.
Cascadiabound.
Quick stop by for me
thanks Elle and FS
(Tom too - I'd share a hotdog with you at the Falls!)
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Salish Sea Sand-dollars, WA
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Alaskan crap boat ...
You do mean CRAB boat, yes???
And I believe this particular vessel calls Seattle its home port. Alaska its working waters. Lol.
Thanks Tom!
AbsintheFather
Passing some time
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The uppermost glacial lake on a hike near Whistler, BC. It took all day to get to and to return before dark.
Then turning around, this is the glacier that fed the lake and several below it
Nice thread
Then turning around, this is the glacier that fed the lake and several below it
Nice thread
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Gorgeous pics AF.The uppermost glacial lake on a hike near Whistler, BC. It took all day to get to and to return before dark.
Then turning around, this is the glacier that fed the lake and several below it
Nice thread
And thanks, honey.
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Port Townsend, WA
cascadiabound
MrTs barmaid
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Ferns, Hoh Rain Forest, WA
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