In the evening,
as the sun was going down.

We walked back in the dark.

I could not get enough of these little guys!

Hiking down off the mountain,
it seemed like every time we rounded a bend
there was another green, shadowed glade
sprinkled with avalanche lilies
and shot through with sunshine.


And speaking of avalanche lillies...

Back again
for our annual visit
to my beloved mountain:
Rainier.

Each year,
the scene is different.
Sometimes it's so snowy
we can barely hike at all.
At other times,
the meadows of lupine and paintbrush,
buzzing with bees,
wash the view with so much color and sweetness
that they seem unreal.
I am always inspired by something different there,
though the mountain's looming presence
is a constant.

This year,
can you guess
what would not stop pulling
at my lens?

Avalanche lilies!

More to come.
I went a little crazy.

From a walk
on a visit
to the other side of the mountains.

Now that fireweed
in the third photo
is all burned up
(as I like to say)
to its white fluff.
I love how you can tell
how far along Summertime is,
by how far up the stalk
the fireweed has flamed.

Bat for Lashes - Laura

Bright Eyes - If The Brakeman Turns My Way

I have a largely sedentary job,
and its immediate products
are fairly abstract
instead of physically tangible.
I think this is why
when I get home from the office
I have been turning so readily
to the kitchen.

I love taking beautiful raw ingredients,
putting in some clean and focused effort,
and turning them into something that can be
cut and divided into slices,
plucked warm from the counter,
poured on a hot day,
or balanced lightly and carefully upon
Summer-stained fingertips.

Nice and tart,
just the way apricot jam should be.

We're heading to the other side of the mountains this weekend
and I'm hoping to come back with pounds of peaches!

The vanilla-peach jam I made last summer
(the first jam I ever made and canned)
ended up being everyone's favorite,
including mine.

2012
so far
has been a study
in light and dark,
paired together.
A glorious day in the sun,
followed immediately by disheartening news.
The gifts of a little time and space,
followed by a string of bad luck
that no one could have foreseen.
High contrast.

But even with the parts
so numbing or frustrating
that I seem to lose my power of speech,
I feel thankful
for the gold
that came before,
and I refuse
to let it dissolve
in the face of things
and be forgotten,
and that is the beauty
of these kinds of pairings
(or so I have been telling myself
this year).


I haven't been in this space in quite a while,
but I have been taking many photographs
and I am looking forward to sharing them.