By the flickering flame of Mount Olympus, Cocky, it's great to be back at the game!

On a clear day, Mount Olympus reigns over the northern suburbs of Seattle. The fog is rising but the mountains loom above, illuminated by the rising sun. The Olympic mountain range covers the northwest corner of Washington state, deflecting and blocking the worst of the Pacific weather. The surviving moisture drizzles the Puget Sound basin in the winter, giving Seattle its reputation, but the bulk of the moisture creates the great temperate rainforest that shares the Olympic name and covers the western flanks. The advancing summer season struggles with the winter snows but have not yet won the high ground, and the rivers are swollen with the casualties of warmth. It is early in the morning as the sun has not yet illuminated the nearby houses and hills.

Update: removed spurious and lurid apostrophe. (Blush)

Heigh-ho, Nobody Home

There is a lot of construction proceeding in Kirkland, WA. This hole is to be a new hotel. I find it to be an enormously impressive hole (foundation) for a 2-3 story hotel. If you look carefully, you may be able to recognize the forms of the floor of an underground parking garage. The light blue coils are evidently cables that will be under tension, embedded in the concrete. Against the far wall, you can see the reinforcing structures that help hold the walls of the hole in place during construction. I assume that these will be removed as the building / parking structure / foundation completes.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

That rainbow really struck me. Certainly, I've seen rainbows, but this one was unusually intense in color and nearly complete. It wasn't a full circle, but I usually think of rainbows as fading off on one side. After I resumed driving, I kept peeking at the rainbow and it started to fade. I was lucky to see it full and intense for the brief time it was there.

In reality, the rainbow was more nearly circular. This image was taken as three exposures on my cell-phone camera, then merged with Photoshop Elements 4 using a perspective merge and advanced blending. This explains the kink near the peak of the rainbow and the spreading of the curve (divergence from circular). Initial attempts to merge the images had major discontinuities in the sky and rainbow, so I kept playing with the Photoshop options.

Slip-sliding away

Our Spring weather has been unsettled and unusually violent for this area, bringing hailstorms, rainbows, and drenching rain. I was stunned by a fabulous rainbow as I was driving south of Seattle the other day, so I whipped out my cell-phone and took a picture of it. Don't be alarmed - I had pulled to the side of the road to stop and safely take the picture. It is rather interesting that a passing car gets skewed; there must be some sort of sequential scanning process in the camera exposure.

Odd, isn't it, that I take out a cell-phone to take a picture. A few years ago, that would have gotten gee-whiz responses, but now it gets yawns. Now if only someone could invent a roof that looks good and doesn't leak.

Walking on broken glass

Hiking along the Pacific beach near Cape Alava, WA, we came across this striking display: a bleached clump of trees above a candy-striped log.

April, 2006

Faces

We went on a backpacking trip in the Olympic National Park. Most people think of mountains and snow in the Olympics (surrounding Mt. Olympus) but an unexpected part of the park is the rainforest and coast. These petroglyphs are south of Cape Alava, the westernmost part of the continential United States (traditional). There is a clump of rocks that cut the beach to the sea and have the name Wedding Rocks. I don't really recall, but I think the photo is in the "correct" orientation, though the rocks have probably moved since the original creation of the petroglyphs. There are a many other petroglyphs among the rocks, but I think people are starting to add modern ones. These seem to be authentic and old (1000 years, perhaps?).

Tiptoe Through The Tulips

Spring in Seattle comes early and lingers. We have our soggy days, but the sunny ones make up for the rest. Our tulips come out and last. I grew up in the Midwest of the U.S. and the tulips lasted for a day or two. In Seattle, we get weeks and weeks of pleasure.

I was inspired first by the London Daily Photo blog and the Paris Daily Photo blog, but I have come to understand just how challenging that can actually be. This bouquet is in honor of the reliable souls who bring us the daily photos. And a fond memory of Tiny Tim.

I get around

We were out on a drive to see the eagles on the Skagit River. During the winter months, the eagles follow various salmon runs, and the Skagit seems to be one of the favorites; it also happens to have a road that allows easy access - Route 20, the North Cascades Highway. Our tour started near Concrete, WA, and continued east, including stops at Rockport State Park and Mile 100 (a wide spot in the road). Along the way we happened across a tour group of restored cars. As the drivers lunched nearby, the cars formed an impromptu show.

Update: Forgot to provide a title.

Tattered

The Seattle Science Center has a tropical butterfly house. Inside it's hot, humid, and bright. The visitors walk paths among tropical plants, gawking at the flowers and the butterflies. The butterflies congregate around flowers, water, and plates of food. This particular butterfly must be approaching the end of his life. His neighbors have smoothly undulating edges to their wings, but this one is tattered. He seems to be enjoying a banana.

Paths on the Mountain

We were using our snowshoes on Mount Rainier, WA. We parked by Paradise Visitor Center and started climbing. The day started out clear but clouds came in during the early afternoon. At times we were climbing through overcast and snow, but there was also plenty of sunshine. This image captures a period of change.

Update: We are standing around 6000 feet (about 1000 feet above Paradise) and looking up the 14,400 foot mountain.

I like Paris in the Springtime

I've been visiting daily a couple of photoblogs. The first one I found was the London Daily Photo (LDP). The LDP was inspired by and introduced me to the Paris Daily Photo (PDP). These are wonderful. In honor of the first anniversary of the PDP, I offer this little snapshot of an obscure part of Paris with a wonderful name, Rue du chat qui peche. My poor abilities in French give this street the name "Avenue of the Fishing Cat".

Eric, the host of PDP, has a special listing of photos he has received in honor of his first anniversary, and I encourage you to have a look!

A rose by any other name

A simple sand pendulum can create complex, interesting figures as the point swings through the sand - Lissajous figures. These sand pendulums are often sold in little shops. One of the shops in Port Townsend, not far from Seattle, happened to have their pendulum swinging at the moment of the 2001 Seattle earthquake, and this image is left to us to ponder. The owner named it The Earthquake Rose.

I feel the earth move under my feet

Seattle is on the Ring of Fire, a massive curve around northern part the Pacific Ocean. As the tectonic plates move, we develop neighbors who like to party. Five years ago, 28 February 2001, Seattle had a reminder of our party-hardy neighbors: an earthquake. Everybody has their story to tell and everyone remembers exactly where they were when "it" happened.

I was in the office of my boss, having a routine 1x1 meeting with him. The first rumble hit and it was like a heavily loaded cart rolling down then hallway - just a loud rumble. A few seconds later, a louder rumble with a distinct floor motion hit. I asked Gene (my boss), "Is this an earthquake?" "No, don't be silly." By the time he got the "...lly" out of his mouth, we were both standing in the doorway of his office, looking at each other, because the third rumble hit and hit and hit. It seemed to go on forever. There was a fellow outside Gene's office, sitting at his desk and staring up at a light fixture that was swaying back and forth. "Gee, you really ought to get away from that and under your desk." "Huh? What?" he said as he watched the fixture sway. It seemed to go on forever, but it probably lasted five seconds of so.

Gene and I walked around the floor to inspect any damage and to ensure that anyone needing help or attention got it. Luckily, we were in a new building so most of the damage was to items that slid or bounced off desks to the floor, and a couple of bookcases that weren't properly secured to the walls. I waited around until the official all-clear announcement. I had to wait until the city bus lines started running again.

The bus ride was a little strange. The city was silent, nearly still. The route for the bus I needed took me into the Seattle Metro Bus Tunnel. I must say it is a bit odd to ride through a tunnel in the aftermath of an earthquake. No obvious damage - the engineers had checked it out before re-opening it, of course - but one feels like the ultimate gambler to go below the earth after an earthquake.

Next day? Back to work.

Note: it is normally a bad idea to stand in a doorway during an earthquake. Much wiser to get under a table or sturdy piece of furniture that's away from glass windows. In this case, the door was a sliding door rather than a swinging door, so the response was reasonably safe. A conventional swinging door tends to flap in harmony with the earthquake (literally), slapping you out of the way should you attempt to interfere with its path. Avoid doorways, head under a table or desk.

Where have all the flowers gone?

The Northwest Flower and Garden Show comes to Seattle like a tropical breeze each February. The floors of the Convention Center blossom with displays and booths. This display was an interesting combination of flowers and glass in the style of Dale Chihuly.

Don't know much about history

You look at this picture and you probably think it's inane. Here's the secret: it's not inane, it's art. Yep, there's a plaque on that utility cover in the foreground. A significant plaque. Well, OK, I'll let you judge for yourself (I assume a singular readership here, and I don't mean distinctive, I mean unary).

The plaque reads as it says. Kirkland, WA.

Grazin' in the grass

What do you do with a valley floor that is also a floodplain? You might build houses or businesses there, but they would flood regularly. Here's a clever idea: build a sod farm. Yep, grow grass. Then when the fields flood, you don't lose much. If the floods recede quickly enough, you don't even lose the grass - it will recover quickly.

This is the valley of the Sammamish Slough and you're looking north from the north side of Redmond, WA. The Slough is to your left. In the distance you might be able to make out the Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery, but I rather doubt the visibility is good enough. The Columbia Winery (must be over 21) is nearby and so is the Red Hook Brewery. Yes, we have all the conveniences here.

Slip-sliding away

The good side of all that rain is: snow in the mountains. We went skiing at the Stevens Pass Ski Area on the afternoon of a recent football game. It was great. The day was sunny, as you can see to the right, the crowds were light, the snow was good, and the lift lines were brief. There was even plenty of seating and eating room (normally it's a struggle to find a place to sit).

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It is raining again in Seattle. After a day of brief relief - it takes just one to interrupt the record string - we're back into rain. Two and a half times the average amount of rain for January and an inch short of the wettest January on record. Water is everywhere. The rivers had started to drop, but they're higher than ever. Hillsides are slumping; one stretch of a hill slid into the Oso River and blocked it. The emergency folks brought in construction equipment to dig a new river channel to save nearby houses.

This is to be someone's basement. The rain will drain, the ground will dry, the cement will pour, the foundation will harden, the house will go up, and the happy people will move in. Seattle - we can survive anything!

Three mountains

We've had another sunny day, but don't tell anyone - they might think there's a pattern here. But the sunny day calls for another mountain photo. This panorama is from the slopes of Mt. Rainier and looks roughly south. The tall volcano in the distance on the left is Mt. Adams; the volcano hiding in the center distance is Mt. Hood, and the volcano on the right is Mt. St. Helens.

Rainier Sighting

The rains have broken and I saw Mt. Rainier for the first time this year. It feels like a long time since Mt. Rainier was last visible; those layers and layers of clouds can weight more than one might think.

Although I saw Mt. Rainier from Redmond this afternoon, this photo is from January, 2003, and was taken in the alpenglow from Longmire.