Rincon Valley

Photo by SW Cosgrove

Riding horses on Rincon Valley trails under the Rincon Mountains, Tucson, Arizona. Spotted a cougar for part of the ride who was keeping an eye on us.

Home of the Jumping Cholla Cactus (Opuntia fulgida), which gets its name from spiny segments that detach so easily they seem to attack any creature that passes by. I found out the hard way.

See the USA in your Chevrolet

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

Do you remember?

See the USA in your Chevrolet
America is asking you to call
Drive your Chevrolet in the USA
America’s the greatest land of all

On a highway, or a road along the levee
Performance is sweeter
Nothing can beat her
Life is completer in a Chevy

So make a date today to see the USA
And see it in your Chevrolet

Travelin’ east, Travelin’ west
Wherever you go Chevy service is best
Southward or north, near place or far
There’s a Chevrolet dealer for your Chevrolet car

See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet.
The Rockies way out west are calling you
Drive your Chevrolet through the U.S.A
Where fields of golden wheat pass in review

Whether Trav’ling light or with a load that’s heavy
Performance is sweeter, oh.. nothing can beat ‘er
Life is completer in a Chevy
So make a date today to see the U.S.A

And see it in your Chevrolet

The song “See The U.S.A. In Your Chevrolet” (title as filed for 1950 copyright) is a commercial jingle from c. 1949, with lyrics and music by Leo Corday (ASCAP) and Leon Carr (ASCAP), written for the Chevrolet Division of General Motors.

The Changing Light

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

The view from my office window high above Market Street, looking up Van Ness, as the fog rolled in from the Golden Gate onto The City, changing day into night. I always had a sweater ready in the middle of summer.

The Changing Light by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The changing light
                 at San Francisco
       is none of your East Coast light
                none of your pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
                        is a sea light
                                       an island light
And the light of fog
                   blanketing the hills
          drifting in at night
                      through the Golden Gate
                                       to lie on the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
       after the fog burns off
            and the sun paints white houses
                                    with the sea light of Greece
                 with sharp clean shadows
                       making the town look like
                                it had just been painted

But the wind comes up at four o’clock
                                     sweeping the hills

And then the veil of light of early evening

And then another scrim
                  when the new night fog
                                        floats in
And in that vale of light
                      the city drifts
                                    anchorless upon the ocean

Eventide at Kalaloch’s shore

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

The sun, once brilliant and dominating the sky, now recedes into the horizon, bringing a new day to the Orient.

The unpacific Pacific Ocean, churning furiously during the day, now rests, its heart beat in rhythm with the pull of the moon.

Chaucer wrote: Time and tide wait for no man.

And they shall not wait for us.

Nikki’s Ghost

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

I took this photo during a snow storm on our farm during the last winter of my beloved German Shepherd Nikki’s long life some years back. Her story over 14 years was one of trust, loyalty, protection, and love. I strive to follow her example.

The first to welcome, foremost to defend

Whose honest heart is still his Master’s own

Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone

Lord Byron, Epitaph to a Dog

Walking on the Western Edge – Kalaloch driftwood

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

At beaches at and around Kalaloch are massive piles of driftwood washed ashore over decades and centuries. These “drift logs” include ancient trees that are several feet in diameter and tens of feet long that can weigh several tons.

Over time, the branches, bark, and heartwood—what appears to be nothing more than floating debris—become either home to or sustenance for a range of plants and animals that change the properties of the wood dramatically. This is an example.

Walking on the Western Edge of North America – Kalaloch, Ruby Beach

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

Traveling north on Washington’s Pacific coast, vast sand beaches and endless horizons of rolling surf are replaced by towering stone stacks in a restless, crashing surf that carries battered driftwood the size of entire trees to the beach.

Inland lies the lush, primordial rainforest.

I love Kalaloch in winter when there are fewer people and the storms roll in, blackening the sky, sending mountains of water into the air before crashing to the beach. I rent a rustic cabin on the beach, going to sleep and waking up with the insistent pulse of the mighty ocean right outside my door.

In future posts, I will share more of this world. Here is Ruby Beach.

Shine on, you crazy diamond

Photo by S.W. Cosgrove

Good night, Emerald City, I’m on my way home across water. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

“Here in the corner attic of America, two hours’ drive from a rain forest, a desert, a foreign country, an empty island, a hidden fjord, a raging river, a glacier, and a volcano is a place where the inhabitants sense they can do no better, nor do they want to.”

– Timothy Egan, The Good Rain, Across Time and Terrain in the Pacific Northwest