Mehrten Creek

A rustling of leaves
Tinkling and trickling over
Dry and toned from the Live Oaks
Pile on top of each other
Upon soft Earth between the rocks
While the Sugar Pine needles
Remain where they like

Dusk begins its darkening ways
Mists roll through
Obscuring the canyon slopes
The air chills unexpectedly
Uninvited arrangements amongst the bite
Springtime at 4,500

This'll have to do
There's water here
A fine easy flow
Canyon walls that ease away
May not leave us too exposed
It's settled then

To hunker down amongst the boulders
Tent is set and tarps are taut
Branches and brambles set the wall
Not as planned but it'll do
A fine set against the flurries
Which intend to chill and divide

The wood is gathered
Resting within and sheltered
Sleeping pads and bags inside
Luxurious now as rabbit fur rugs
A palace waiting for final touches
With just enough room for two and gear

A spark, an ember
The tinder goes aflame
Branches pop as the fire engulfs
The warmth eases in slowly
But soon runs throughout
The humble abode turns royal
Basking in the glow

Snows through the night
But soft with heavy flakes
Unexpected this time this spring
As is their way
Creep up and persist

Awake the next morning
With half a foot on the ground
Still dumping but something strange
Snowing but relatively warm out
Piling up and melting together
Remaining half a foot all day
No more no less
Just constant and not so bad
Shows the tracks of the bobcat
That stole the bread

Right then the course is set
To stay another night
And thrive against the freeze
Stand up and hunker down
Any way to weather the storms
And enjoy the time together

Morning of the third day
Still half a foot that greets
Blue skies that smile
Twinkling eyes through the oak and pine
Hot coffee and warm breakfast
Shed the snow and pack up
And leave this frosty delight behind
Put out the fire we're headed home


To the one who weathers the storms with me
And here's to many more sunny mornings
Happy Anniversary Baby

New Video from Alex Yerks

Well folks he's done it again. Alex's videos seem to get better and better as he goes along. His latest one has a little insight into his kuksa making magic. Truly hot stuff in this one!

Whether it's movie makin', professional photography, professional music makin', or treen carvin' with Scandinavian made tools, Alex's art work is drenched with nostalgia. Dude's puttin' out some serious North Americana Art on a weekly basis folks. Check out his website http://www.theaxeisboldaslove.com for more of his art, or to order some handmade treenware.

So without further delay, Alex's Axe Carving & Treen:

True Temper -Flint Edge- Kelly Works Connecticut Axe

This one took awhile as I cut a 36" straight handle into a 32" and thinned it out a little with a lot of rasping and sanding. That was some work, but I like how it now has a thinner profile to the handle.

A True Temper -Flint Edge- Kelly Works Connecticut Axe.

3 lb head, 4 7/8 inch bit, 32 inch handle on this one.

The Palouse

To Nick and his family who seek the upland game


Awaken from slumber to sunshine on a dreamy hillside
A never ending daydream world
Aware but not as the shadows dance with the clouds
Shadows rolling over and down
Over fields of green and gold
Like sitting on the bottom of a stream
As salmon swim above

To blink and rub the eyes
Causes the shadows to slow to a crawl
And hold in the lee
On a warm summer day

Sitting on the hillside
Looking out over a sea of undulations
Stretching to the horizon
Ever on and beyond and on
Large is the expanse
As the waters that divide

Wheat and grass and wheat
Broken by rivulets and hedgerows
And brambles and thickets
And barns and white spired churches
That call of home and heaven

The hills hold the clouds above them
Deep still blue with sun
Soft and warm as a caress
With gravity weighing heavy
As the grass calls and invites
And envelopes and knows

Greens yield to the growing golds
Clouds thicken and coat
Golds turn to grays in the stillness
Calm as a hunter’s gaze
Pointed as the lab
Orange and black against the haze
Search for pheasant rainbows in the reeds
As hills and sky combine

Sleetings follow the heating of the hearth
Cast iron among the coals to guard against
Oil and game sizzle
And the room note fills
Warm as on the summer hillsides
As the frost seeps under the door

Outside the hills now covered
As a soft white wool blanket
They sleep as winter’s moonlight drives
The shadows of night in the lee
Holding against the gales and drifts

Pistoned beasts skate over rivers of ice
Stretching to the horizon
And around the next bend
Speeding through the night
Forever on like the hills that haunt
Endless flight with no worry to slide
As the paths of geese low to the water

Awaken on the hillside
Knowing that the snows have receded
But in the back of the mind
Like a day long ago

The noontime grass has returned
With greens as bright as they can
And darken in the lee

The salmon have returned
To swim above
Upstream towards the setting sun
As they carry you along

The Humboldt

Dry leaves gather 'neath the madrone tree
Quail congregating in the shade
Spring to action with reckless abandon
At the sound my footsteps made

They'll scurry and bolt and run around
And clank and clang and chatter
But I just stroll along through these woods
And pay them little matter

For they're always along the sides of my trails
Like passerby's saying hello
Hi, how ya doin', well goodbye
We're off to the brush below

With a quick beat of wing
A small glide of flight
An escaping leap
With not much might

Gravity weighs heavy
On these tasseled birds
Holding them close to the ground
Whispering soft words

The wind sings through the pines
With a whistle and a wisp
Crackling the manzanita
Smelling sweet and crisp

Loose rock and rabble
Thick brush for a house
The quails' domain
Shared with hare and mouse

And hawk and raven
And owl and snow
And time gone by
And the salmon below

Old roads not meant
For travel no more
Cling to the mountains
And wait to settle the score

Payback for the years
Of the cut and the groove
To slide down in the rain
How hillsides move

To flush the streams
With silt and sand
And fill in between gravels
A movement of land

Most sawyers felled well
With heart and mind
But a few did not
With deaf ears and blind

Some logging done right
Some logging done wrong
Most mills closed down
As their shadows grew long

Done right it provides
For years and years
Done wrong it does not
With cries and tears

Over peaks and hilltops
Are views that shine
From ocean to mountain
And all that's divine

Salmon and Horse
Green and Moonstone
Ishi and Clam
Big Lagoon the elk's home

Forests of green
With glowings of gold
The giants breath fog
So they can grow old

These forests are wet
Covered in good rain and mist
Drenched most of the year
In the cloud's clenched fist

They breath youth and life
And are constantly growing
They breath change and rebellion
And energy flowing

Grand fir and Red fir
White fir and Redwood
Gleaming and shining
with sap as they should

Up high they sparkle
In the bright sunlight
Dripping their essence
A high rock delight

The region is rich
For the harvest of trees
And now more than ever
Hears the eagle's pleas

With wings spread wide
Over great rivers and streams
Eagle talks business
With cries and shrill screams

Which carry to raven
Who hears every word
And spreads all the news
To its flock and herd

For in the bottomlands
Raven communes and gathers
And yells hello's and goodbye's
And talks daily matters

But up high they pair
And live solitaire
And keep watch and heed warnings
For all others to care

From high rocks and tree tops
They cluck and they clock
Saying this mountain's mine
And this is my block

They keep it for owl
They keep it for mouse
They keep it so quail
Can keep their old house

Midsummer Lakeside Musings

Heatwaves dancing and applauding above the horizons.
Forces of nature strong enough to levitate and gather to influence flight paths and gliding of wings.

Crows stand in tall grass and tree limbs with mouths open to perspire their hot breath.
Doves spread their wings to ventilate on fence posts sweating in a way.
Some search for any puddle available.
Runoff from a garden hose.
Pools gathering beneath a dripping faucet.
Too hot for dust baths.
Chirps and squawks diminish with the sun's increase.
Why not fly to catch a cool breeze?
At least they have the possibilities to find one.

There is a buzz that lingers in the air.
Not from insects.
More of a hum of stagnation like a smoke filled room.
But all only appears still.
Vapors are fast at work escaping to swirl as they can.

It had been a mild summer as far as the heatwaves were concerned.
Seventies in late May and only a couple days above 100 in early June.
Until summer finally arrived.
A week straight of at least 105 to melt the mild.
At least it's a dry heat.
Touches of humidity at the fringes, but not like the South.
Not like the East and the Tropics.

So as do birds, we flock to the water's sweet coolings.
Sweetness crisper than any marble fountain of Mt. Olympus spewing forth pure to cool the ancient goddesses.
Great migrations upwards to the mountain streams and the calming lakes of the woods.
To seek the shade and to soak the bones.
And to let the pores fill with rejuvenation.

With parents and children, in-laws and friends.
Together we seek the satisfaction of all-natural relief from summer's clenched fist.
Still blazing hot a mile high.
To shiver with purple lips and goosebumps is a pleasure these days as the waters wrap you in luxury.
Only then does the sun become a welcoming fire.

Gear Explosion!

Hunter napping under Multi-cam

Wren Peak, Mt. Harrington, and some Tehipite Valley Domes

Musical Intermission

And now for something a little different. This band has for 18 years now been in the solid # 2 spot in my lineup of favorite bands. For some reason, they have now crept into the # 1 position. Sorry Zeppelin. You're # 2 now.

Thanks to SuperBiancos, whoever you are, for uploading this!

Gets real nice about the 36:00 minute.

So Ladies and Gentlemen, without further adieu..........The Black Crowes



May not be viewable on mobile phone.

Happy Birthday America