Winter Stream oil on board, 7" x 5" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. SOLD Snow Today! I sometimes missed the changing seasons when we lived in southern California. It is magical when the landscape is transformed by a blanket of white. This little stream was just beginning to ice over.

Haystack Shadows Oil on board, 5" x 7" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. SOLD I was struck by the clarity of the winter light on this cool afternoon, the haystack casting sharp-edged shadows under a cloudless sky. A very very very long time ago, when I was a teenager, I worked summer jobs on haying crews. We "bucked" bales of hay averaging maybe 65 pounds apiece, and built haystacks by hand. These days, putting up hay can be done by one person, using specialized machinery. Each of the bales in this stack weighs more than a ton. Bucking bales was hot, dusty, sweaty work...but it was character-building. Oh, did I tell you how I walked nine miles back and forth to school every day? Through huge snowdrifts. Uphill both ways.

From the studio wall:


How we love to play with color. I picture the neon lights of Hong Kong: the carnival costumes in Rio de Janeiro; New Guinea warriors in paint, masks, and headdresses; Spanish flamenco dancers; a Van Gogh being auctioned; Hopi Kachina dancers. Our passion for color connects us intimately to people everywhere, but also to plants and animals. We are all of us bamboozled by its trickery, exalted by its richness, and enslaved by its messages. Craving color like a drug, we will rise at dawn, or trek long distances to scenic lookout points, just to drink color from the fountains of the sun.

~Diane Ackerman, Deep Play

Wahkeena Creek Morning Oil on board, 6" x 6" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. SOLD One of the many streams that filter down from the rugged Cascade Mountains and spill into the Columbia River.

The Pass Oil on board, 5" x 7" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. SOLD This is the Deadman Pass area of Cabbage Hill, near Pendleton, Oregon.The beauty of this landscape belies its reputation, one nearly all long-haul truckers know. From the forested summit of the Blue Mountains, Interstate 84 snakes down a long, treacherous grade that is infamous for burning up truck brakes. It's wise to keep an eye in your rear-view mirror for runaways. I've often seen acrid-smelling blue smoke boiling from the wheels of the semis, and imagined a hard-bitten driver behind the wheel mouthing fervent prayers under his breath. A popular T-shirt in the truck-stop gift shop at the base of the mountain says it all: "I survived Cabbage Hill."

Falls in Fall Oil on board, 6" x 6" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. SOLD Another view of Multnomah Falls, an Oregon landmark, along the Columbia River Gorge. A visit to the falls is a retro experience. You follow the quaint narrow highway along the base of the steep cliffs and park across from the marvelous stone lodge, built in 1925. There are old moss-covered rock walls as in yesterday's post, and beautiful little concrete bridges. There was still some nice autumn color when I visited recently.

Mossy Trunk Oil on board, 5" x 7" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US.

Stone Wall at Multnomah Oil on board, 5" x 7" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. This wonderful moss-covered wall is an example of the beautiful stonework along the old highway through the Columbia River Gorge. The narrow little road, once the only route through the gorge, has been relegated to "scenic route" status--replaced by the busy freeway farther down the slope. Driving the winding curves of the old byway, top speed maybe forty, is like taking a trip back in time.

Multnomah Falls Oil on board, 7" x 5" $125.00 + $6.00 shipping in US. SOLD Was it coincidence, or a sign? We had managed to arrive in Oregon's Grande Ronde Valley during one of the biggest windstorms to hit the Pacific Northwest in years. From Montana to the coast, trees tumbled, barn roofs sailed over farmers fields and power lines sparked and crackled on the ground. A dense, roiling blanket of leaden clouds coursed low over the valley floor, swallowing the morning light. Rain fell in horizontal swaths while the metal sides of the storage units popped and rumbled like thunder. As we struggled to unload the rented moving truck, a chilling gust of wind whipped my hat off and whistled down the collar of my coat. "What in the world were we thinking," I muttered to myself, "leaving sunny California to move back here?" That was last week. Today the wind is not blowing at all. A feeling of serenity washes over me as I sit here in my provisional but snug little studio, gazing out the window at the familiar, forested mountains that encircle this valley I have known all my life. After thirteen years spent in Arizona and later California, Brenda and I have returned to a place that is charged with meaning and memories for us both. For better or worse, we are once again "home." I reflect on our good fortune: the opportunity to be closer to our elderly mothers and other family; the chance to renew longtime friendships; the fact that our kids are willing to drive from Portland to spend the holiday with us, amidst the chaos of packing boxes. As my brush dips into the paint after weeks away from the easel, things start to feel right again. Thank you all for your patience and support. Happy Thanksgiving.