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| Two of the Three Sisters southwest of Hy 20 between Sisters and Bend, OR |
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| Old Growth Douglas fir |
If you have ever traveled
the old Santiam Wagon Road from Corvallis, Oregon eastward across the Cascade
Mountains, your mules seldom left the shade of tall pine trees. So dense and green is this forest that moss
hangs from limbs and little creeks trickle even in late September in what
Oregonians call a draught. They don’t know
draught, of course, and their mules now reside in Camaros and Subarus.
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| Old Growth Douglas fir |
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| Old Growth Douglas fir |
The first car to make it over these mountains came in 1905, a 1904
Oldsmobile Dash Runabout. Dwicht Huss drove
it from New York to Portland in just 44 days.
He beat me doing that distance on bicycle by 20 days.
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| Angelines Bakery and Café in Sisters, OR |
Today I walked among the same Douglas fir trees those 1850’s Wagoneers
saw. Some have fallen, some have grown
bigger, but the oldest ones have still lived about 500 years.
Fir trees stand in rows
ReplyDeletecolumns in the architecture
of temple earth
Having seen all
Keeping wisdom
In silence
~Kathleen Jacobson
Looking forward to every post! KJ
An old forest as temple or cathedral is a spiritual sense that I have felt also. Something about these very old trees speaks of divine presence. "keeping wisdom in silence"--it's what trees do--these old ones.
Deletecycling along
ReplyDeletethese mossy pathways ...
the woods and I
resonate this song
of exhilarating freedom
I am free in these woods to live, to die, to be, Mandy. "Exilatating freedom"
Deletebreathing the air that the trees share
ReplyDeletethis is the pathway of being one with all
very nice, Junnie
DeleteSharon this was written inspired by Robert Stewart's painting, "Yard" one of the small ones, a set of four we bought from him, but when I looked at your post and your moss-covered trees, I felt in tune, and the feeling of oneness was there from my childhood.
ReplyDeleteGrowing Up
My father was a man of passion, but even he would say to me "be careful-- if you laugh so much
for so long, you'll end up crying." I looked out the window of our ordinary kitchen into our
ordinary yard. The pink cherry blossoms were covering our picnic table and falling fast. On the
old oak in the center, the bark kept peeling, I picked it piece by piece to help. I felt as if
the deep green moss on its trunk was growing on me too.
in my hand
caterpillar
after caterpillar
the feel of long
green-gold fur Sept 21 (yard)
Interesting how you find something from your recent writings to apply here. I guess in art, travel, and poetry, anything goes
DeleteI wrote it today and noticed deep green moss was growing on you too...
Delete