The Narrative Image

Several days of rain have driven parts of the Eagle Creek Fire into quiet bouts of seething resentment. But here and there unexpectedly — absent any ventilating breeze — tell-tale plumes of smoke reveal hiding places where glowing embers yet lurk under blankets of ash. According to wildfiretoday.com, the fire is only 46% contained, but one would never suspect it while traveling the gorge corridor confined to SR-14. I took a picture of this sign, wondering where my balls went. Meanwhile half a dozen bicyclists pulled down the orange safety barrier and pedaled out to the end of the viewpoint. Curiosity about the state of the gorge after wildfire ran rampant across its vertical faces inspired me to seek access to the trails and viewpoints along I-84 along the Oregon side of the gorge, but the eastbound lanes were still closed on Friday. I drove the back way into Corbett, hoping to find some unguarded route into the post-fire scenery, but every road I tried, sooner or late...

It had now been absent for nearly half a year after leading the birds south last autumn for their annual hiatus. I hadn’t noticed it was coming back because the clouds conspired to hide it – tried to create an impenetrable gray blanket of depression – tried to cover the earth in a glaze of freezing rain and sleet, like a giant black slug. But nearly two weeks ago, I stepped out of a soul-killing windowless concrete-slab work-box to wash off the stink of my own nervous sweat in the face of a bracing wind that I remembered from the morning and which I knew carried stinging rain in a horizontal fashion. Instead, the world of gray was vanquished - the gloomy cover shattered –rays of golden sunshine, like rescue searchlights actively seeking abandoned children – warmly touched my face – dried my clammy skin – whispered promises of summer. I went back inside to tell the others. It’s come back! Winter is over! (The sun - It told me! I felt it!) By the time they went to look, it was ...