Later in the Afternoon

Some days, as you look to the horizon in the east, it's so clear you can see all the way to Touchet--well, if not literally, then at least figuratively. There, in Touchet, on a hillock, above a golf course, is the grave of America Smalley, a child who tragically lost her life in a fire. Her grave is marked by a large, white wooden cross.

But this afternoon, despite the golden sunlight, coming from low in the western sky, there's an accumulation of purplish-blue clouds above the Cascades. Nevertheless, I see Touchet in my mind's eye, and that white cross on the hill.

Another Beautiful Day

It's another beautiful day at the Viewpoint. The water has stripes--well, bands--of different shades of blue. I'm not clear on why that happens, but I've seen it many times before. Does it have to do with variations in the degree of windiness in different areas, I wonder, which would cause different wave patterns, which would then reflect the sky in different ways?

At the head of the trail there's a floppy plant. That's not the official name of the plant--just the category I put it in. When I say "floppy plant," I mean any of that multitude of plants that have a few big floppy leaves rather than a network of lots of little leaves. I imagine there's some official designation for plants of this kind. I'll touch on that subject another day. Today I want to go over the classification of clouds, since there are so many of them to be seen from the Viewpoint.

Cirroculmulus, cirrus (floccus), cirrus (uncinus), cirrus (fibratus), cirrus (spissatus), cirrostratus (fibratus), cirrostratus (nebulosus), altocumulus (perlucidus), altocumulus (translucidus), altocumulus (floccus), altocumulus (castellanus), altocumulus (lenticularis), altostratus (translucidus), nimbostratus, stratus (nebulosus), stratocumulus (stratiformis), cumulus (humilis and mediocris), cumulus (congestus), cumulonimbus (calvus), cirrostratus, cirronimbus (cappilatus), cumulonimbus, cumulonimbus (mammatus) are all terms used in the classification of clouds. The painter John Constable would have loved the Viewpoint for its great variety of clouds.

From the Viewpoint one sees many of the Cascade Mountains--the range to the east of Seattle. From the highest point in the cemetery across the street, one can also see the Olympics--the mountain range to the west of Seattle, out on the Olympic Peninsula. Another day I'll write more about the mountains.

Awkward

There's no way around it: the Viewpoint is awkward. "Awkward" in the movers' sense of the word. If something is awkward, it's difficult to move even though it may not be as heavy as something else that's less awkward but more manageable because of its form and the distribution of weight within that form. The Viewpoint seems like it should be so easy to work with. You would think it would offer no end of perfect opportunities for the photographer or painter, but the truth is that it's a sort of visual Rubik's Cube. When you're setting up a shot, there's always one factor or another that's just not quite right.

The weather this afternoon is perfect for all those who love "good" weather. (I acknowledge that there are those who prefer a storm, but I think they may be in the minority.) Today it's sunny and warm, without being hot, and the air has a fresh scent to it. But over at the Viewpoint I struggled and struggled to find a good shot. As I've written at least once before, I can't find even a single shot that shows what the Viewpoint really is: a tiny park with a grand vista below and beyond it. I even photographed another photographer as he set up his tripod and camera, ready to take the perfect shot, but repeatedly failing as he switched from one vantage point to the next and in the end leaving with a disappointed look on his face. Today the blue of the water and the blue of the sky were so blue. But I couldn't figure out to show the expanse of either in a photo. I won't stop thinking about it, though. The Viewpoint is like a song I hear over and over again in my head, whether I physically go there or not. Some music sticks in your head, and so do some places.

The Wind

I've meant to get to the Viewpoint all day, but several things have kept me from it--amongst them, the wind. When it's windy, at the Viewpoint it's even windier. Today may be the windiest day of the year so far, although this is not something I can measure in an official way, and I don't keep track of it on the Internet.

Wind is one of the hardest things to paint, since it's invisible, although it's not so hard to paint its effects, many of which are visible.

Like A Dime

Shiny as a new dime, the full moon glowed above the Sentinel this evening, but there was no one to be seen there at the Viewpoint. Maybe if I'd waited a little longer. I once took slides of the full moon. I can tell you that to get a good slide of the moon isn't altogether easy. You have to do a lot of bracketing. I got one slide that was perfect. There was a tremendous amount of detail in the image, and the positioning of the moon within the rectangle was just right. But when I took it to the photo lab, the guy at the counter put his thumb on the emulsion, and that was the end of it. That was a decade ago.

From Rain to Shine

Today has gone from rain to shine. In the morning it was nothing but showers outside, but when I stopped by the Viewpoint a few minutes ago, it was drenched in sunlight. I noticed about five or six little red clumps around the UW ceramics studio. (I can never remember its official name!) These must be maples of some kind. Within the park below the Viewpoint, most of the maples are Bigleaf Maples. The area was once covered by a heavy stand of conifers, but these were logged off around the turn of the century, if I remember correctly what I've read.

The Photographist

As I was setting up my tripod today, two guys came clambering up the alternate path--the shortcut I mentioned previously. One asked if I was a "photographist"--then immediately corrected himself: "...um, I mean photographer. 'Photographist'--that sounds sort of German." So why did he say "photographist"? Just to be funny? Or was it because he was a little out of breath? The mind can do odd things when you're catching your breath after exerting yourself, just coming up the path from the ravine. In any case, in my mind's eye I can see it on a business card:

Paul D. Natkin
Photographist

It was overcast today, and it looked like it might rain. In fact I think it's raining now.