Wy'east: Dark Sunshine

3514A.

Another day of working overtime. Clouds moving in, there's a dusky darkness to the midmorning sky. I didn't think The Mountain would be out, but she was, and the dark cast to the light ... probably the same quality that the Grimm crew loved ... could not be ignored.

The iciness of the peak communicated very well this day. Behind me, a storm approached from the west.

The wind is always brisker Out 122nd Way, and it was hard keeping Olivia's door open without snapping shut on a leg or some other extremity.

But this was done.

Adobe Sunrise, 122nd and Stark

3510/A.

It was at SE 122nd and Stark where I caught this, the undersides of clouds looking like red sandstone cliffs.

A wider angle showing off the deepness of the sky. The row of cars in the foreground are the new cars on the lot at Ron Tonkin Toyota.

The skies have almost been disturbingly exquisite lately. 

And a closeup. There are photos I've always thought of as 'album cover' photos; the kind you might find on a musical group's album as the cover design. This would be one of those. Naturalistic, but zoomed in enough that the loss of the greater context confers a level of abstraction upon it.

The texture of the clouds is, of course, entrancing. I can't stop looking.

Wy'east, Red Sunrise, January 1st

3509/A.

The atmosphere in these photos seems to take its cue from the chaotic nature of society. Unless it doesn't; nature is, while not unaffected by what we do, indifferent to what's exactly going on. But with a sky like this, it's sometimes fancifully believable to follow that the turmoil we project out introduces chaos into our environment.

The reality is undoubtedly most prosaic.

Maybe it's the time of year but the rising sun has been doing this trick where it's very red near the horizon and reflecting against the underside of the clouds, giving the impression of a solid ceiling.

The solid feeling of spatial definition gives me the oddest feeling of calm.

The real show here was the luminous area off to Wy'east's right, where the sun was going to come up. It's on its way back north now, and will be behind the mountain again by mid-February.

The attraction in the above framing is the streamer of cloud that straggles off to the left of Wy'east. It seems to start in front of the foothills and winds behind them, being blocked off on the left of frame by the shoulder of Larch Mountain there.

Ice On The Mountain, Ice On 122nd, and Calendar news (at last!)

3507/A.

What a heavy last few days, 'ey, Oregonians? I grew up liking snow and ice, and you didn't see that so often, and a white Christmas was something you saw on the TV here in the Willamette Valley, not the typical Oregon winter which was wet, gray, damp, and chill.

It it just me, or has there been more of this the last few years or so? Two white Christmases out of four? It used to be one white Christmas out of ten, at the upper end.

Climate change much?

Anyway.

The sun behind the high, thin currus and further muted by the cirrostratus brought a calm blue to the face of Wy'east.

The world is a glacier and the blue of the mountain makes valley and volcano of a piece almost.

A very cold piece.

The Rossi's field sparkled with glittering ice. Ice also fell from overhead wires on 122nd as I was about to drive under them.

If 122nd looked like some Alaskan Way, as in the above, then it was even worse two nights ago, when someone caused a multi-car slideout and decapitated a fireplug just a little north of this at the I-84 exit.

Now, for some calendar news.

One of the reasons I don't plan hard is that things come out of the woodwork to thwart all but the most basic of my plans. I have come very near to a state of completion of my 2018 photo calendar, and plan on putting it on sale via Lulu.com, starting this coming weekend.

Stay tuned. Watch this space.

Wy'east: The Spear of Light

3540.

I try to tell myself I'll be happy with just a longing glance as I drive uphill on Big 122.

I try. Truly I do.

But I'm smitten. Nay, addicted. Whatever. There's no treatment for this, and that's fine, just fine. It's put the mark on me. I'll take it.

Wy'east on the horizon and the sky over Rossi Farms this morning. Yes, I know I'm starting to fall a little too in love with bumping the color, but I can't stop myself. I mean, it looks delicious, don't it?

Of particular interest today, other than the contrails, is the spike of light that's visible just there, on the right side of the scene. Do you see it? It looks like a ghostly streak, going straight up, perpendicular to the horizon, kind of like "zodiacal light", except this isn't at night, and I don't think it's along the line of the ecliptic. At least, I don't think so.

It's just right of the farthest right tall tree there. Looks like a vertical smear.

Here's a closeup, which is a noble and beautiful sky-and-cloud picture unto itself.

I imagine it has something to do with ice crystals in the air and the sunrise, because right at the base of that spike, as we arrive in the general vicinity of the Winter Solstice, is where the sun itself came up not too much later.

[Out122ndWay] Morning on Big 122

3517.

Another photo taken today when I was lensing Wy'east. A look up slope, south on Big 122, from the SE corner of NE 122nd and Shaver. This is the stretch of major arterial road that crosses the Rossi property.

We welcome you to rush hour, Outer East Portlandia, which is already in progress.