Cemetery Trees of Boulder Creek

So long ago, I don't remember when
That's when they say I lost my only friend
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees

~ The Wallflowers 

There's something solemn and sacred about cemetery trees. I often wonder if the oldest of the trees were present for the burials. When searching for a cemetery among the steep mountain canyons that were once logged by the community that briefly lived there, I wonder if there were any trees at all?

Linking up with Abracabadra for a Wordless Wednesday. Photos are from my search for Boulder Creek Cemetery. The mountains are full of trees today and the fallen lumber is that of the old logging camp. One tree we claimed as firewood and the tree rings reveal that it had indeed stood sentinel over the burials before it died of its own broken heart disease, blue stain.

Blue Stain, a Broken Heart Disease for Cemetery Trees

Walking the Old Logging Trail in Search of Dead Trees to Fall

All That's Left of Boulder City

Hollow Log on Boulder Creek

Whirl of Pine Needles

Old Roots

Larch in Blaze Orange for Fall

Walking Among the Old Ones

Cemetery Tree in the Distance

Standing White Pine

Fenced Boulder Creek Cemetery

Distant View

Cutting the Downed Pine

Wordless Wednesday: October 15, 2014

November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Rock Creek is my WIP for 2014, and I just returned from visiting the actual historic site in Fairbury, Nebraska.

Linking up with Abracabadra on Wordless Wednesday. Photo & cover by Charli Mills.

Early Dinner Guests

Going Off-Pond

Osprey Nest 2013

Nest Near Hope 2013

Magnificent View Outside Hope

Osprey on Elmira Pond 2013

Osprey Fishing Elmira Pond 2013

Fish in Elmira Pond 2013

Osprey Arrived in May 2013

Osprey Bomb 2013

One of Three 2013 Osprey

Riding in the passenger seat of our red Ford Fusion, I'm navigating away from Elmira Pond. I'm in charge of the itunes, dogs and the path.

It's a path we both know--Hwy. 2 follows the Clark Fork River from where it ends, spilling water and sediment into Lake Pend Oreille to its most populated town upon the river's banks. Missoula, Montana is where two of our grown children live.

In addition to sharing these connections of water and pavement, we are connected by the sky. The vast sky-way begins in Central America and ends with the Clark Fork River's final spill into Lake Pend Oreille. And the osprey are its frequent travelers, showing up in western Montana and northern Idaho in May.

Which causes me some reluctance to leave Elmira Pond. I know in my heart that I'm going to miss their return because it is nearly May. Every day, with eyes to the sky, I look for them. Why they leave the banquet of fish-abundant waters only 15 miles south to hunt this humble peat bog, I do not know.

But I welcome their visits.

Osprey are large; not as big as the two bald eagles that also hunt this valley, but their five-foot wing span is noticeably wider than any other large hawk in the region. Osprey are raptors, but they dine exclusively on fish.

And that's how I learned that Elmira Pond has fish.

Driving around the sweeping bend in Hwy. 2 near Hope, Idaho I look out over the sparkling waters of Lake Pend Oreille. Like the cliche that all volcanoes are drawn like triangles with wide bases and cone peaks, the Selkirks encircle the deep lake with such cliches. Where forest, mountains, water and sky meet commands an awe-inspiring view.

We both comment, "It's so beautiful," never tiring of the magnificence of this particular curve in the road.

The only thing that can trump the view does--an osprey flies over the road with a two-foot stick. Osprey are master nest builders. "Must be the female," I say. Although in all fairness, the males are just as interested in the nest as the females.

I text my eldest daughter, Allison, immediately:

"Guess what I just saw?"

"An osprey???"

 "YES!!!"

"Saw three along the Clark Fork."

They are back, they are back. In fact, Iris has already arrived in Missoula to the Hellgate nest. As I type, she's chattering up a storm (literally, thunder is rolling in as she calls to another osprey that might be Stan, her mate). You can watch Iris and Stan live: Hellgate Canyon Osprey Project.

My daughter worked with the Montana Osprey Project last season. She published a podcast and hopes to publish one about the osprey on Elmira Pond. How much longer will it be before they are hunting Elmira Pond? 

We make it to Quinn's Hot Springs where my younger daughter, Brianna, meets us for a fantastic Montana dinner in a classy log lodge. She's my ride into Missoula. Todd returns to Elmira for another day before he has to leave for a 10-day work week in Boise.

While I'm watching Allison dance live at a cabaret with a sword balanced on her head, Todd texts me, "Guess who came to dinner?"

Yes, one of the three Elmira Pond osprey returned just as Todd was finishing up yard work. He heard the whistles first. Osprey are chatty, social and will let you get close for photo opportunities. The photos posted in this blog are from last year. These four that follow are my husband's captures of our early dinner guests.

The migration was successful.

Early Dinner Guest 2014

Todd Looks Up 2014

And an Osprey Looks Back 2014

A Successful 2014 Migration

Run to the Hills

Running Through Hills of Snow

King of the Hill

Like Race Cars

Puffing on His Pipe

The snow is melting, the snow is melting!

With a serious case of cabin fever, we rushed the dogs up the Pack River so they could run to the hills. The Upper Pack River Road has been inaccessible to us since mid-December. The melt has opened up the road and away we drive.

White, crusty hills of piled snow encircle the snowmobile landing area. That was as far as we could navigate (without a snowmobile of our own). The entire drive up the road, Grendel nose-whistles; he's that excited. He leaps out the opened door into rivulets of running water. The road is packed sand, still frozen enough not to be muddy...yet.

Grendel and Bobo dash up and down the hills; hills of snow, slopes of snow-crusted rocks. The Pack River rushes in our ears but too much snow prevents us from getting a closer look. Like race-cars, the two dogs zoom around the open area where snowmobilers can turn around trucks with toy-haulers. They kick up icy water and fine grains of quartz sand.

Todd pulls out his pipe and blows puffs of smoke, watching the dogs. I watch him. The sun shines warmly on all of us and it satisfies our need to get out of the house, to breath in the sharp scent of pines and watch dogs run to the hills.

Without Permission

Bright Day

Dogs Left Behind

Yes, She Confessed

The Day's Sacrifices

Evidently I failed to gain permission to go into Sandpoint today.

Yes, the sun was shining like the warm glow of a kerosene lantern. You know that feeling, out camping and the light is bright but the air is cold? It was that kind of sunny today. Whatever the sun lacked in warmth, though, I soaked up its light.

But without permission.

You see, the two GSPs are particular about being left behind. Quite frankly, they don't like it. And I forgot to talk nicely to them, encourage them to be patient and forgiving. But they were neither. They were left behind on a sunny day and I went to town and they didn't. No matter that I hopped a ride with a neighbor and, well, no dogs allowed.

So I returned to the results of naughtiness--my punishment for abandoning two hapless dogs at home for four hours. They didn't care that I went to a Daughters of the American Revolution meeting, or that I picked up my manuscript at the publishing house of Staples.

They sacrificed stuff.

And not just any stuff. The ate my Douglas Fir lip balm (that's right--not only do I hug trees, I like to walk around as if I've been kissing them, too). They--feel free to gasp at this point--got my Kindle. My...Kindle...leather-bound...now complete with two toothmarks and one scratch upon supple green Italian leather. They chewed the workability right out of my wireless mouse. The battery cover now flops off, the wheel won't scroll a single page and it's ridged from chewing. And, they chewed the tip off of the toilet bowl brush and apparently tried to read my book on revision without putting the bookmark back in its place.

So when I wailed loudly to my husband over the phone, he reminded me that I forgot the permissions. Funny how everything they chewed up was mine, not his.

Horses of Elmira Pond #7

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?

Horses of Elmira Pond #6

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?

Horses of Elmira Pond #5

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?

Horses of Elmira Pond #4

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?

Horses of Elmira Pond #3

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?

Horses of Elmira Pond #2

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?
 

Horses of Elmira Pond #1

While I'm off-pond for a week, I've set up an art project to share. A talented artist friend has made a career of enhancing her photographs. Inspired by her, I have selected seven photos of the Elmira  Pond horses and explored enhancements with sepia tones and diffused glow.

Art is another way to tell a story. What story do you see here?