Photo by Robert Ashworth.
Sunset here now. Actually, the light’s just about gone. The creek below our cabin is rushing, the predominant sound since we don’t have the stereo or the television turned on. There was more wild rain tonight — giant plopping drops on the windshield of the car and a sky to die for with a hint of rainbow as we drove from Terminal Gravity in Enterprise back to Joseph backlit by the setting sun. Yellow of fields, green of fields, black of grazing cows. Blue of jagged mountain peaks. Gray of jagged mountain peaks. A few remaining fingers of crevice snow. Midnight blue of the lake with shimmering white and yellow last vestiges of sun reflecting off.
There is much three-dimensionality here everywhere I look — into the hills, the mountains, along the terminal moraine of Wallowa Lake especially over on the dry, more treeless shore. People are out and about, families, the go-kart race in circles across the street. My eyes smart from a long dry day up into the mountains and back. From breathing what has to be some of the cleanest air left in the U.S. of A. So much beauty…
Photo: A little diorama, trompe l’oeil, window art on the walk down into the Joseph City Park where the Blues Festival is held.