Spring Is Coming to the Coast

The search for spring was interesting on the coast. There were some places where you didn't see anything on the trees except moss. It looked like it would be months before leaves or blossoms would appear and other places, it was the exact opposite. In Port Orford there was so much Scotch Broom in bloom that it almost looked like summer. I couldn't resist getting closerand closerand closer.In Bandon, there were cranberry bogs all along Highway 101.Of course they won't be flooded until September when it's time to harvest them.From Coos Bay to Nehalem it looked as though spring might never come and then just north of Haystack Rock, near the Center Diamond Quilt Shop, a sampling of spring bulbs were newly opened. Single daffodils dotted the walk to the beach.I found these miniature dutch irises hiding in the back of the parking lot.I believe this is a hot pink anenome about to open. (Correct me if I'm wrong.)One lone purple crocus brightened up a small bed.I wasn't quite sure what this was going to be until I started moving my camera around inside the bushand found this butterfly bush beginning to bloom.I have no idea what this will be, but I couldn't resist these tiny pink buds.I think it should only be a matter of a week or so before we start seeing things like this around the neighborhood. Until the real thing pops up at your house, enjoy these.

Back in the Saddle Again

On the way into Portland Friday morning, we noticed another interesting sign of spring and decided to go out early this morning and photograph it. This picture was taken January 19th. Notice how far south the sun is rising relative to Mt. Hood.
This picture was taken from the same basic location at the marina this morning. Look at how far north the sun has traveled in just one month. It's rising in that northern saddle again.Just one more month of winter on the calendar:)

The Power of the Sea

Dave claims that my landlocked upbringing has a negative effect on my appreciation for waves crashing on rocks. It is a beautiful sight and there is no better place in the continental United States to watch waves crashing on rocks than the Oregon Coast.I try, but I just can't get as excited about it as he does. I look for peace on the water.He waits and watches for the biggest wave to crash.I like to see calm and a collection of the colors of the sea.He listens for the thunderous roar of the power of the ocean.I like the glow of a setting sun to soften the darkness of the rocks.He likes the contrast of the dark rocks and the white foamy surf.And lastly, I like to watch from a safe distance--like the parking lot,while he likes to get right up next to it.Yet again . . . we see same the things through different eyes.

Heceta Head Lighthouse

Heceta Head Lighthouse, just North of Florence, Oregon, is probably Dave’s favorite lighthouse in the entire world. We rarely drive past it that he doesn't want to stop and take a picture or just admire it whether it's from the turnout just north of Sea Lion Cavesor looking across the Cape Creek Bridge.It was turned on in 1894 and is the most powerful lighthouse on the Oregon Coast at 1.2 million candlepower. To save money, it was built using the same plans as the Umpqua River Lighthouse.This trip, we stopped at the state park and “hiked” (a well-paved trail through some trees) the scant quarter mile to the lighthouse.Once at the end of the trail, we climbed a somewhat steep and narrow trail to a spot above the lighthouse and Dave took this picture.The keeper’s house is now a bed and breakfast and despite rumors of the house being haunted, it was voted best Bed and Breakfast in the July 1997 Sunset Magazine.

A Glimpse of Summer Days to Come

Last weekend we took off for the Oregon Coast--not our usual run to Lincoln City to shop or Waldport to crab. We went deep into the coast and to the furthest west point in the continental United States. Those of you from the northwest know that is Port Orford, Oregon.From there we took four days to work our way north along Highway 101. It was like a trip through Camelot. Clouds would roll in about duskand rain would fall mostly under cover of darkness, then give way to sunny afternoons with temperatures in the mid to high 50s the next day.There were clouds like the ones hanging over these snow dusted hillsides just west of Roseburgand there was rain that kept us close to the car at Cape Blanco,but the rain cleared the sky for the afternoon and the clouds framed it in the evenings. We took hundreds of pictures that will take a while to sort through, but we'll do our best to post something of this trip every day or two over the next week. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did.

Still Searching

I've been quite distracted with sunrises, fog, and frost lately. One might think that the search for spring had ceased--not so. If I were a gardener, I would have lots of things to take pictures of, but we were fortunate enough to buy a house this time with lots of evergreen plants that require very little care. We do have a big, probably out of control, camilla bush/tree. I can't bear to cut it back because it's so incredibly striking when it blooms. I keep expecting them to pop open any day, but not yet. They still seem to be quite tight.Our other little plant is a hot pink hydrangea. I'm not one to take in strays, but I saw this little plant at the end of the season about eight years ago at a local nursery half dead on a clearance table for fifty cents. It doesn't look like much right now,but it gave me one of my favorite macro pictures last year in the early summer.I can barely keep up with the signs of spring these days. I knew it would start changing quickly, but I wasn't expecting it so soon. It's easier to find a tree without buds on it than one with them these days.
I found new growth on a rose bush last week.Rhododendrons are no longer one lone bud.Crocuses are starting to pop their green leafy heads out of the their protective coverings and surface above ground.These furry little buds don't look like much right now, but they will be stunning in a couple of months. I can't wait to see this homely guy become a beautiful tulip tree,and this one a magnolia.I keep expecting to see blossoms or leafy trees any day. It's coming and will be here sooner than you think, no matter what that silly groundhog says. Until then, the search goes on.

Brrrrrr

One would never think that I would come to love frosty mornings so much considering how freezing cold I am all the time.
Before thyroid cancer, you could write it off to a non-functioning thyroid, but since I have no thyroid now and take synthetic thyroid medication I have no excuse.
With the beauty I found on frosty mornings in January, I haven't really thought about being cold. I just bundle up and go.
There really isn't much to say about these pictures except that to me they show beauty in the simplest of things.
They are so fleeting. In some shots you can almost see the ice melting.
I'm sure these mornings are probably over, but I do find myself looking out the window for another glistening coat of frost before winter fades away.

Chasing Sunrises

I can't believe I'm staying up to do another post, but after looking at those gray fog pictures, I have to share something with a little color. I've found myself chasing sunrises these days. Other than the sixteen inches of snow in December, we seem to be having a rather uncharacteristically mild winter so far. I find myself out early a few days a week and so I've decided to not leave home without my camera.
I've learned a lot about sunrises in the last few weeks. I won't bore you with all my pictures--just a few favorites.
The first thing I learned is that the best color is long before the sun ever breaks the horizon. I try to have everything out and set up at least a half hour before sunrise.
The second thing I learned was not to discount the effect of clouds on a sunrise. I left the house one morning and it was definitely quite cloudy. I was driving west and it was so cloudy that I didn't even glance to the east to check the sunrise. Suddenly I looked in my rearview mirror and what I saw was unbelievable. I didn't have time to go back to the best viewing point, so I stopped at a stop sign on a side street, pulled out my camera and took this out the window of my car. I'll never again assume that cloudy skies mean a bland sunrise.The next morning was partly cloudy also, so I left early and went to the Salmon Creek Trail. I stood there for forty five minutes watching one of the most beautiful sunrises I've ever seen. (In case you're wondering, there is no post processing involved here. This is how it really looked--I promise.)

The last thing I learned seems ridiculously obvious, but I'll share it anyway. Once the sun breaks the horizon, the sunrise is over. The most brilliant colors are gone and all you really have is a bright orb slowly lifting above the horizon.
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Winter is a great time to chase a sunrise because it rises so late and the crack of dawn was only about 7:45 when I took these pictures. Our days are getting longer and now it's rising about 7:30. An additional 15 minutes of daylight in two weeks--I'd say that's a sign of spring too.