I was looking through my iPhoto albums this morning for inspiration and realized that on this day a couple of years ago I was traveling through the Cascade Mountains by train. The view out the window was absorbing, because, once beyond the bounds of a familiar region, everything was subtly different: the fields, the land, the towns, the buildings. Even this parking lot is different in subtle ways from what you would see in the Midwest. The sun-bleached patterns and shadows on the corrugated sides of the building are like something out of a painting by Hockney. And check out that red curb.
I wish I could have gotten a better picture of this pear house, which has an air of pride and mystery. I like the suggestion of battlements along the roof-line. If you tried to storm it, would you be pelted with a certain fruit?
My sister-in-law, a Seattleite who skis, spends a lot of time in towns like these. The train ran through places like Leavenworth and Wenatchee, open mountain towns folded, accordion-like, into the slopes.
I loved looking at the fruit orchards . . .
and the old farmsteads nestled up against the steep rise of evergreens.