Frosty weather brings in the elk ...

Yesterday it was so frosty - below freezing, even at noon. On a hunch, I suspected that the cold weather would bring the elk herds down low.

Yes, I found a smaller herd - about 60 or so. They stay away from the road and my camera doesn't zoom well, but loved catching them in their frosty environment, enjoying green feed.

Such magnificent animals.

All steamed up ... oops, I mean all fogged up ...

The weather patterns here tend to amaze me. A perfectly clear weekend, but this week has seen the valley socked in with an inversion layer - visibility down to 10 feet in some places.

It was below freezing this morning, venturing out into the heavily fogged countryside. Within 5 miles it turned to a mess of ice and white - a light misting of frost and snow on everything. Some brief patches were clear, but then came the beauty - some 20 miles away in Ashland, where the sun was shining in a clear blue sky and the curtain of fog left behind, the rising golden sun ahead. But all was white, and shimmering like a romantic picture book.

Then, retreating back into the fog again, I was hoping to get some great shots at the local wildlife refuge pond of the white surrounds, but the ground was clear. However, all was mystical, as not a thing was stirring.

I'll go back another day, when the sun is out.

Back to Childhood

Sunday. A day of leisure.
Breakfast of poached eggs with bacon on a huge pancake served at the old farmhouse restaurant. Where you feel like you're eating with your friends and neighbors, just 5 miles away.
But then to take the 'long way' back to the ranch. Stop off at the local wildlife reserve with at least 3 different types of dragonfly buzzing around. But mainly to pick some blackberries. They are coming into season, and I haven't really done this since I was a child. I remember my Dad looking out for me - and pushing flattened cardboard boxes into the bushes so these bushes that have a habit of attaching to anything within reach are evaded.
I loved this time with my Dad - remembering the red stained fingers from the over-ripe berries. And of course the wonderful blackberry cobblers and other treats. The time I spent with my Dad was far too short. He died of tuberculosis when I was 18.

The Rogue Valley has blackberry bushes all around, so you can go help yourself without too much effort or search - and without worrying about having been sprayed with poisons.
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The photo of the deer is from a few months ago. Taken just as I was going outside to the car. I only just spied them behind John's truck. The photo shows the beautiful light here in the valley. Click for a larger view.

As Dawn Breaks ...

As dawn breaks I immediately look to the east, as I stir softly from my evening slumber. The warm peach glow from the horizon above misted hills spreads out across the sky.
I know the day will end up being a hot one, as so many are. Yet the day starts out in the 60s, almost tricking you into thinking that maybe it won't be so hot later.
"Shhhh, come look!" I hear John say from the kitchen. Peering out of the small kitchen window into the back of the house is a four-point buck. He's still, but alert. Just when you think he's about to turn and go, he lifts a hind leg to scratch his front. A magnificent animal, not more than 20 feet away. Graceful.
He turns and so daintily steps through the dry brown grass, almost like a ballerina on points.
"Oh look! There's two!" The female is there, too, by the white fence, probably looking to get through or over this obstacle.
And thus the day on the ranch awakes ...