Heading back to Portland from my parents' place, Erik and I often consider pulling off the road to take some pictures. That barn, those wheat fields, a great sunset on the Columbia -- we usually talk, but rarely stop. This time we pulled over and I'm glad we did. Here are a few pictures to share and a charming, vintage book passage at the bottom of this post.
The brown autumn grasses here and there relieved by tufted mounds of green, stretch away and away to the far purplish line where the sky comes down to earth through the haze of Indian summer, a mighty dome of blue above, not a mountain or a hill, or a tree, or a river to the uttermost bounds of the land-- one vast, unbroken plain. The crisp air of mid October tempers the rays of the sun; a soft breeze sends a fine and delicate tremor through the long grasses in every gentle swale; there is no cloud in the brilliant sky. If on some midsummer day you have looked up to the sky of Lapland, far inside the circle, you have seen such blue. – The Outing, 1901