Hiked along a trail beneath the canopy. It smelled so good in there. Clean, you know?
Emerged into the sun and scaled a rocky ridgleline...
To sit perched atop a precipice with our legs tingling from the height. The wind howled, and a flock of birds whipped around us catching the currents. Below, the Columbia slowly flowed west.
There's something about evening light in the summertime, isn't there? It's thick, like honey.
A fire, to cook corn on the cob—and later, to read by.
By noon the next day, we were tasting pear and cherry wine along highway 35...
And gaping up at the backside of Mt. Hood, which looks not unlike the Matterhorn.