The bright red-orange roof against the blue sky caught my eye as I was walking down Front Street. The color and shape of the building. looking through a street tree caught my interest. But ofd memories kept my attention.
When I was just a little boy, I remember my grandfather taking me down to the train station to see Uncle Ben off and to pick him up from his annual winter trip back to Pittsburgh. I became fascinated with the idea of riding a train across the country. When I was five, I had my opportunity for such a grand trip. My grandfather took me back to Pittsburgh to see the “Aunts”! I remember anxiously sitting in the “grand train station” waiting for the train to stop and pick us up. It seemed like an eternity, the ceiling was so high, and the room so large. I could not sit still. It seems like just yesterday.
My last trip through the station was in the late 70’s. My wife and I decided to take the train from Seattle to Yakima instead of driving. It was a wonderful trip over the Pass and through the Canyon. My father and a brother picked us up at the station. It was still such a great place.
So many wonderful memories. I am thankful that the old station has been put back in productive use.
I have been working to develop my process for contemplative photography. My assignment today was to take a walk with a fresh open mind not looking for any specific thing to photograph. The practice objective was to just wander and let the world around me catch my eye. If something caught my eye, I needed to keep my mind open, take my time, and explore specifically what was it that captured my eye, what was important, and what was not. Only then I could raise my camera and frame the image.
Walking along Front Street, I saw a bright orange flash that stopped me dead in my tracks. It was in stark contrast with the surrounding area of old stucco and bricks. Shadows from a metal gate added to the contrast. Soft mottled shadows from a street tree graced its surface. The vertical bars of the gate framed the brilliant orange. What a wonderful gift I was given.
Driving home late in the afternoon, I looked back in my rear view mirror and saw golden sunlight patches on the ridge dividing Selah and Yakima. They looked like patches of gold. The sight stopped me in my tracks. I stopped my truck, got out, pulled out my I-phone and received this beautiful gift. A few minutes later it was gone. I have never seen (recognized) such a pattern on these hills before.
Lesson Learned: When I see a gift, stop and receive it. It may never present itself again.
How did a river cut such a gorge through a basalt mountain. Maybe it didn’t. The Yakima River originates high in the Cascade Mountains. The upper end of the river was not part of the great Missoula floods that covered Eastern Washington. The Yakima meanders through several Basalt Ridges. The nature of a meandering steam is that it flows through a relatively flat plain. If the mountains were there first, the river would have flowed around them. So how did the Yakima get through the mountains. Maybe the river was there first, As the ridges slowly developed as part of the Yakima fold formations, the river could have gradually cut a channel through its original riverbed route.
I spent a day slowly driving through the Yakima River Canyon. I stopped and photographed several interesting rocks and formations. During the next week or so, I will post several of my images.