An Alpine Jewel/Over and Out

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All photographs copyright Cynthia Guenther Richardson 2018

My oft-stated “reluctance to travel” stance (due to a flying aversion, partly) is beginning to seem at least a white lie since I’ve been elsewhere much of the last few months. And soon I am off to the “Rocky Mountain High” of Colorado to visit more family. This, despite my concern about the major altitude in general and its impact on coronary artery disease. But, no way out–the cardio nurse said there is no reason to not go for it (“yes, you’ll feel the altitude but just slow down and rest”), so go I will.

Before I fly into the great wild blue (or is it wide blue…), I wanted to share a more local fun adventure. Marc and I hit the road yesterday to see Trillium Lake by our own mountain– Mt. Hood, of the Cascades. I have been on the mountain, as we say, many times (another post was written about Mirror Lake, near Trillium Lake) but had never had the pleasure of experiencing our mountain lake from early afternoon til evening. I’m grateful we went. But next time I want on a kayak, paddle board or just a big donut “floatie.” We also did enjoy an easy 2 mile hike at 3700 feet.

I could elaborate at length about the grandeur of alpine forests and the towering majesty of Mt. Hood; undulating, gentle water; languid campers and picnickers and floaters (no motorboats allowed); and the drenched, ebullient dogs romping among freedom-crazed kids. It was all beautiful to witness. And oh the deeply quiet, redolent trails through forest and marsh circling the lake–perfect.

But it is best to just show you. There were so many great vistas and people to observe and record that it was hard to pick these few shots. Please enjoy Oregon’s Trillium Lake–named for my favorite wildflower–and ruggedly attractive Mt. Hood (which draws skiers from all over each winter).

The first look after we parked and paid our $5 fee:

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And that nature-infused happiness billowed–even as I noted more and more people around the curving edges of the lake (that crowded parking situation highlighted that immediately). No matter; it’s just awesome.

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Then a relaxing hike around the perimeter of the lake. There was much more forest we hiked but it is hard (for me) to get great interior forest pictures. That boardwalk through the marsh was caving in at spots and had been, we think, closed off. But someone had tossed the warning sign aside and we decided to proceed and safely managed it. The varieties of bird song was worth it as well as the views.

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Back at lakeside we decided to really relax, cool our dusty, dirty, black fly-nibbled, sweaty bodies and drink lots more water plus eat a snack. We settled into camp chairs in the piney shade. It was still in the mid-80s (F)–in Portland it was close to 100 degrees Sunday, hence this trip higher up–but we were blessed with swift breezes. Wonderful to sit among such trees and close to tranquil water. This is actually Marc smiling–a too-rare thing these days with his endless long work hours. From our perches we watched countless families, couples and friends play–and what a good time they all had.

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The light began to throw off its brilliant gold, sank behind the treeline bit by bit, and prepared to put on its magic silver character. I was mesmerized. (Please click on the smaller squares for better viewing.)

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The long drive back home past forests and moss-encrusted cabins and fine ski lodges was quiet. We were satiated, tired out in the way that is a deep comfort. Surely you, too, can find your own diversity of delights the coming week. Look about; it may not be Mt. Hood and Trillium Lake (plan to visit) but I guarantee that life-enhancing moments hide in plain sight.

Well, this is “over and out.” Be well, be kind. Catch you in a week or so (that is, before or after our annual summertime Oregon coast trip)!

Pastime (a Freshly Pressed Post)

I know, this is my fiction posting day but I’m starting out with real life stuff. The made up story comes after. The situation is this: maybe it’s the weather changing, how glossy sunshine has begun to fade and darkness, struck with a light chill, falls earlier. Or perhaps it’s my age that more adamantly rouses the chameleon nature of mysterious nighttime. It might be a few squiggles and knots in my life that can poke holes in my resolve to wake the heck up and get productive right now. Or all this and more puzzling unknowns.

But this afternoon I am floating on last gasps of a very small sleep.It’s a hazard of living a life. The fine tuning required to create even a small yet decent story I’d want to share with you is not operant yet so I hold back. I ruminated and started and stopped.

Then I decided to do something I’ve never done before: re-post a story from 3 years ago, August 2013. Well, I’ve been thinking of pictures,  still or moving, and photographers, having corresponded with two fine ones recently. And I recalled my short story that was “Freshly Pressed” in 2013 entitled “Pastime”, about a photographer meeting up with blithe campers. What a happy moment it was– to be Freshly Pressed, and how surprised I was to see many readers stop by! I hadn’t the higher numbers of followers back then.

Today I re-read “Pastime” and thought: this is my post for today. Make that “reblog.” It’s a summery tale–do I admit to missing the season of heat and kaleidoscopic colors already?–and a little fun as well as very short for me (I often write 2000-4000 word stories, even on WordPress). All good for now.

So forgive my temporary laziness; I’ll be back soon with current, maybe even snappy, writing. First I need to get a genuine full cycle snooze in. Then I have to face a root canal tomorrow. I sure hope this story will suffice. I had fun writing it for your enjoyment back then and, it turns out, now as well.

Just click on the link below to see the rest; this one reads fast. Have yourselves a good-to-better Monday –I’ll work on mine.

Tales for Life

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You would not believe the shock I felt when I passed by the gallery that winter during my lunch hour. I recognized his name right off. I pushed the door open and took it all in, wondering if it was true.

When we first met Sully was camping next to us, his tent sagging in the middle, his kerosene lamp throwing off a weak light. He was rooting around for something, I couldn’t tell what since he was half-in and half-out of his tent. Maybe that’s why it was about to cave in.

I walked over, licking my fingers clean after enjoying BBQ chicken legs I’d made for me and my two boys. He stuck his head out and looked at me, then the tent collapsed. I stood with hands on hips and watched it fall in on him, nothing more to do but see if he could put it back up right. I found it funny…

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