Grass to Grain and Back Again
Thousands of cattle on a braided network of well-worn trails were weaving their way out of the high mountains of the Hat Creek country. Around 30 to 40 leather and flannel-clad dirt cowboys on horseback rode with them, and when their wide brimmed hats failed to block the setting sun,…
Below the Feet of a Giant
At the foot of a giant, I dug a little soil test hole a few days ago. I was in a remote stand of massive coast redwoods—one of the most northern great groves of the magnificent trees in the southern reaches of coastal Oregon. Clouds drifted through the treetops, and…
The Pine Contortionist
The surf is pounding hard against solid rock as I write this. February winds drive breakers that hammer the basaltic pillars and haystacks dotting the shoreline and send spray rocketing skyward. Caryl managed to score a super reasonable house on the bluffs perched precariously along the Oregon seacoast for a short getaway. Our 60s bodies,…
Blue Nights
I can tell it’s going to be cold tonight. All day, I’ve been stocking the woodstove. Even though a propane heater in the living room keeps the chill down for the kids playing, in the kitchen it gets cold if you don’t keep feeding the iron beast. Our house is old, built in the 1940s,…
The Moose Tree
“That’s a widow-maker,” I said while pointing to a nearby tree. I was speaking to Bret who was proudly standing next to the wall tent he’d just put up. He now looked confused. It was clear he had no clue what I was talking about. “That tree…” I again pointed up to the massive Douglas-fir…