By the time we got to winter it already felt like spring in the Pacific Northwest. A few things bloomed and the Christmas bugs returned, those gray, floppy, mosquito-like creatures that come every January. I don’t mind the bugs but… Read More ›
pacific northwest
Spirit of the rising sun
Just the radio in the corner and the heater blowing. The year winds down. We had so much rain this week they compared it to the floods of 1990 but this week was worse. I stayed in all day, no… Read More ›
Salthill Promenade, 2015
At times the rain could be maddening, the repetition. And it got so dark you had to watch your mood or you could slip under. I thought back to our time in Salthill, outside of Galway, when our family came… Read More ›
Sunday sermon
No color left to speak of in the woods. It’s ash gray, bone colored, drab greens and browns. The feel of cold wind rushing through a bare forest. Keeping an eye on the creaking trees (they sound like zippers). How… Read More ›
Tending and mending
You couldn’t see the moon because of the clouds but with it almost full it made the night sky milky white. More wind had raked down branches throughout the yard, pine needles too. My new haz mat suit was waiting… Read More ›
It’s a shame about Ray
Foggy morning walks through Soaring Eagle state park. By December the color has drained down to a dull copper with some last yellow in the leaves. The rest of the landscape is green, cloaked in gray. The deep greens of… Read More ›
Last Sunday in November
So long 54. With Thanksgiving late in the month this year it runs headlong into Christmas and no one’s missing a beat. My birthday fell the Sunday after turkey day and we went back to our favorite neighborhood restaurant, Jak’s…. Read More ›
Portrait of a domestic house cat
When Timmy got agitated, which was often, he’d go to the wooden frames throughout the house and scratch. That or the carpets. He’d left the leather sofas alone but they were still ruined from him jumping up and down on… Read More ›
Dark enough
At last all the leaves were down. I used the tractor to grind them to bits and the blower to scatter the remains. In no time I’d been to Portland and back to the dark of my morning den. The… Read More ›
Field recordings, Portland
I went back to Portland to see my childhood friend Loren for the night. Arrived early and left 24 hours later. We took our familiar walks and ended things where we started, at his local coffee shop, Keeper. In the… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 