I crawled out of bed at 5 A.M. yesterday morning, put the coffee on and gathered my camera equipment. Almost forgot my Sandisk memory card, but that’s another story altogether.
Headed east over the Santiam Pass, to an area of Oregon that rearranges the senses and drags one “Ahhhh!” after another out of me. I am (fortunately) married to a wonderful guy who loves to drive. In fact, it’s an accepted fact now, after almost 42 years of marriage, that a two-hour trip will translate into a four-hour adventure. He keeps his foot close to the brake pedal, knowing I’ll let out a squeal and want to bail out the passenger side for photos.
That’s how it went yesterday. I’ll let the images speak for themselves. Soak them up and enjoy the beauty of God’s creation. For truly, I’m in awe whenever I hike down a hillside or lift my head to see the top of an awesome tree, like the one near Lost Lake, inhabited by numerous woodpeckers. Then there’s the majestic peaks standing watch over the city of Bend (and, on their backside, over an amazing expanse of volcanic rock spewed there thousands of years ago). Each stop left me without words. Every detail, every reflection, every hue of Autumn’s paintbrush was such a gift–especially in an area that was ravaged by fire a decade ago.
Made me glad to be a photographer.