Lake Crescent on Hwy 101

On a recent drive to somewhere else I stopped to admire the scenery from the edge of Lake Crescent in the Olympic National Park. I heard the sound of giant wings pushing against the air and then the hair stood up on the back of my neck.  Looking up I saw a splendid Bald Eagle. … Continue reading Lake Crescent on Hwy 101

Webster’s Woods at the Port Angeles Fine Arts Center

On the slope rising from the Straits of Juan de Fuca to the Olympic Mountains there is a circular home called the Port Angeles Fine Arts Center.  I use the word “home” advisedly because it is the place where once lived Esther and Charles Webster.  Now, thanks to Esther, it is the home for much… Continue reading Webster’s Woods at the Port Angeles Fine Arts Center

Sue Roberts at the Port Angeles Fine Arts Center

Didn’t Mom tell you not to judge a book by its cover?  Did your teacher say that art is about revealing inner reality?  Artist Sue Roberts upholds both these maxims in her pointed and funny show “Family of Sorts” currently at the Port Angeles Fine Arts Center. (You can click on any image to see… Continue reading Sue Roberts at the Port Angeles Fine Arts Center

Trip to Hurricane Ridge

Oola has been a bit down in the mouth with all the overcast skies and rain since we arrived.  So when we woke her with the news of a brilliant day, she rolled over and went back to sleep. Mistake. The weather can change here seemingly in an instant, so that when Oola decided to… Continue reading Trip to Hurricane Ridge

On Ediz Hook Road

After a week of unpacking and of dealing with pass-the-buck bureaucracy worthy of a Russian novel, the Mysterious One and I made a quick decision to investigate that spit of land north of us called the Ediz Hook Reservation for Native Birds.  Didn’t see a whole lot of birds but we did see this looking… Continue reading On Ediz Hook Road

Heading South on Amtrak

You are looking at some lovingly restored, turn of the (19th) century corbels spaced on the corners of the Olympia-Lacey Amtrak station. How do I know they are “corbels”? Because the sign says they are “corbels”. Actually the word jangled a hardly-ever-used synapse formed in my art history days. So dusty was the memory that… Continue reading Heading South on Amtrak