The fish ladder at Bonneville Dam.

We were a little too late for lots of fish

But we did see Herman the Sturgeon.

http://www.oregon.com/columbia_gorge_attractions/bonneville_hatchery

Along the trail to the bridge

At Multnomah Falls

A view from Timberline lodge looking south.

Promenade

Joseph and Maribel met, as they always did, under the elm her grandfather had planted. Wordlessly they linked arms and strolled down the promenade. Once upon a time there was a thrill and anticipation now it was habit; it was expected even anticipated by the regulars of the boardwalk.

Their walks started in the days of parasols and gas lamps, chaperones and carriage rides but times had changed and the slow easy feel of a Sunday afternoon has been lost. But still they stroll and the passers by smile and nod, a small piece of yesteryears acknowledged.

The day will come when one or the other is no longer able to make this walk, but until then Joseph and Maribel will find their way to the old elm and each others company.

I will never believe what I see in a photo again.

The stuff I am learning is so cool!

I was playing with the flash outside today. This is actually taken in the great outdoors looking straight up with a cloudy sky as the backdrop.

I need a place to post my mental meanderings.

The Day Room

The gentle sounds of a distant memory danced freely above the upright piano in the corner. A woman, lost in another place and time, caressed the ivory of a long ago baby grand. The out-of-tune keys could not hide the talent of she still possessed. But this impromptu concert was marred by the conversations of elderly men, none of whom would admit their deafness and each shouted to be heard.
A wreck of a man sat hunched over in his wheelchair alternately wheezing and cursing; a small existence made empty by his own contempt. Holding court in the center of the room, seemingly oblivious to the others surrounding them, were The Ladies; three women who wore their house coats and orthopedic shoes with dignity. A life time of back fence gossip spilled forth as they clustered together around a jigsaw puzzle that never quite got finished. These spurious stories of people long past were the thread that help them together but separated them from the possibility of more.
An outsider looking in might wonder at such a place. At first glance the social atmosphere seemed pleasing but the harsh fluorescent lighting and institutional furnishings quickly brought even the most casual observer back to focus. This was the dayroom and these were the Forgotten.

Dig It

Furgus went to Walmart looking for a snow shovel.
In Minnesota this shouldn’t be a problem,
but it was August and they had spades and rakes,
but not one snow shovel. Furgus couldn’t ask
for one either, they might ask questions.

He couldn’t admit his old one is deep in a well
with his ex-wife.