Seasonal Trees
Christmas this year is a bit of an odd one, for us at least, with ongoing extended family challenges and seemingly invincible warmth. So perhaps it’s apt to share some seasonally inappropriate trees. Western larch are not Christmas trees, indeed no, they have rather evolved a very effective defense against Christmas tree predators. And they’re not condescending to do red-and-green for anyone either.
A contrary tree, a tree that goes its own way but is gloriously itself! The stripy gold-on-green palette of the wooded Inland Northwest in autumn still feels strange and surreal, but I’ve grown to love it. Merry celebrations to all!
Local Autumn Skies
The weather around here has been something else lately. A long and mild autumn gave way to wet but very warm and growing ever wetter. We didn’t flood like areas near the Cascades of in northwest Montana, but it’s been soggy (and northwest ski areas are utterly pitiful). Then early yesterday morning came the 80mps wind gusts. Our power was out from 5 a.m.until 10 last night, and we feel pretty lucky that it came back so soon: plenty of people are still waiting. Wet snow is falling now and we have a new wind advisory, though I expect that anything that didn’t blow down yesterday will probably make it through the mere 50mph gusts of this next one. As much as I love some good sturm und drang, I’m ready for the atmosphere to settle down into honest winter.
But weather drama aside, the atmosphere has been beautiful this fall. I’m not honestly sure whether we normally have gorgeous skies here in November and I haven’t noticed because I’m tired from all the October photography, or if this year’s special. But special it has been. I saw the absolute best sunset I’ve seen in eastern Washington a couple weeks ago, and while I couldn’t photograph that one, I have made it out for a few good skies.
Moody and romantic, brightly colorful, broodingly ominous or vaporously subtle, our local skies have been a delight this season.
December 2025 Throwbacks
…and November as well, because I forgot to post them last month. Might have been just as well, as November is, apparently, not a generally productive month for me. But it’s not totally devoid either: here are November images from 5, 10 and 15 years ago, from the Selway River (that was a cold night), the California desert and Bandelier National Monument in New Mexico:
And the December selection. Five years ago we went out to see Jupiter-Saturn conjunction on the solstice in the empty spaces of western Whitman County. This is a good reminder that I really need to get out there again. 10 years back I was hitting my stride with photographing Death Valley and had a wonderful morning at Salt Creek, one of those places that feels like the spiritual center of the universe. In December 2010, it seems I didn’t do much, but I did shoot my first eclipse, something I would do with far better results on future occasions.
Still Valley, Evening
Not many words for this one, just a still autumn evening in the deep shadows east of the North Cascades.
Eastern Washington’s relative dearth of public lands can be frustrating, so I’m grateful to find spots like the Similkameen Wildlife Area where there’s some freedom to wander a little.
Great wave… autumn Hokusai:
I don’t generally compose with roads in the frame, but the subtle winding line here brings a hint of wanderlust to the scene:
The Perfect Loveliness of Home
“Why so glorious in the fall? Biology and astronomy reach a showy crescendo, and who could it be for? .… Maybe it’s for no one, a happenstance of grace the world can’t help making, as if divinity found a crack in the end of October and is gushing through.” -Craig Childs
I’ve used this quote before, but it’s been in my mind again. We were planning to spend Thanksgiving with friends in western Oregon, and that would have been splendid. But a combination of challenges and sorrows among some extended family and dear friends guided us to stay home this year, and burrowing into our beloved home as the northwestern fog flows by and the November light wanes is splendid as well.
As with Thanksgiving, so with photography: we have traveled this year and seen some fine country, but my best work increasingly happens here in the Inland Northwest, if not right here in the Palouse. For instance, this set from one of our local leg-stretcher walks. It’s a nice trail, though not one you’d drive across the state to hike, a little stretch of railbed along the Palouse River. It’s not even classic Palouse hill country, just a wooded mini-canyon along an unassuming stream in a fold of the land, yet I consistently find it a locus of small and homely magic.
And the colors… I take a bit of contrarian pleasure in observing that a recent guidebook of Washington fall color hikes contains basically nothing east of the Cascades, and yet every year I am ravished by the autumn glow that blushes and shimmers through the understories and woodlands of this land. I struggled this year with thoughts of whether my autumn inspiration has run its course, and yet I’ve reached November bursting at the seams with autumn images, almost against my will.
The way we Americans approach “the Holidays” feels so fundamentally inverted. This waning of the year from equinox to solstice is the time to rest, dig in, sink deep, wrap up and hold our home landscapes and people close, settling into the fading light and deepening cold. Midwinter, after Christmas, is the time for exuberance and shining those joyful lights into the darkness. Instead we fray ourselves ragged in a frenzy of travel, commerce and cargo cult nostalgia until we meet the coldest, darkest season dyspeptic and exhausted. Much as I wish we were eating beside our good friends today, I am deeply content to be here, with autumn scenery on my mind, cats claiming every warm lap, local logs stacked in our woodpile and green chile enchiladas in our oven. I wish similar pleasures for everyone: Happy Thanksgiving, Americans, and happy dark season to everyone in his hemisphere!
2026 Calendars Now Available
Crest, Cliff & Canyon 2026 Calendar: Abstract Landscapes – 11×14″, 8.5×11″ or 12×16″
I skipped last year, but calendars are back for 2026 – you know you need some! Please note there are several sizes available. At my wise and insightful wife’s suggestion, I opted for a collection of natural abstracts this year and I’m pleased with the result.
You can purchase securely here and calendars will ship directly to you. I strongly recommend the generously sized 11×14″, which looks great, but there is also a more compact 8.5×11″ and an expansive 12×16″. These calendars are produced domestically, printed in and shipped from Wisconsin, and every year I am very happy with the print quality. Please consider this as an easy option for getting my work on your wall or as a gift, and know that I am very grateful for the support!
I’m no salesperson, but perhaps this charming cat will convince you:
November Lonesome
November is not a month I usually love, but I’ve been enjoying it this year. Our skies have been beautiful, and perhaps it’s the post-Halloween sense that autumn is done with its rhetoric and has settled down to more intimate conversation before it takes its leave. Or perhaps it’s simply because I had a fine start to the month exploring some neglected valleys in north-central Washington.
This patch in particular was a breath of fresh air: I haven’t found anywhere else in Washington that seemed so expansive and lonesome, almost like a piece of Nevada with a dusting of larches. Being Washington, it wasn’t all that empty, with isolated homes and barns still visible in the distance. But this little state wildlife area felt blessedly high and windswept with freedom to wander under melancholy overcast skies.
Three Aspen Reveries
Three variations from the Sinlahekin, a deep and pleasant valley at the eastern base of the North Cascades, quiet save for birds, still colorful in the deepening dark of early November.
Golden aspen leaves always feel like the contented dreams of woodlands as they fall asleep.
October 2025 Throwbacks
I admit, I’m having a slow photo year. But I’ve also been doing this long enough that it may be enjoyable to indulge in a little retrospection now and then. So, inspired by the excellent Alexander Kunz’s throwback habit, I’ve decided to start taking looks at what I was up to 15, 10 and 5 years ago, more or less. And what better month to start with than October?
15 years ago, October 2010: This year was a very good fall season for me, and one of many highlights was when Niki and I took a quick overnight into the Manzano Mountain Wilderness in New Mexico. Though not particularly known for it, New Mexico south of Albuquerque does have wonderful fall color if you look for it!
10 years ago, October 2015: I kept things pretty local that fall. This was from a morning of waking up early to drive high into the Whites for sunrise. Not a big fall color moment, but the yellowing fernbush was a nice complement to the light.
5 years ago, October 2020: We were still pretty new to the Inland Northwest. A rainy autumn scenic drive in northern Idaho resulted in the onset of larch addiction.
Toothy Death
Happy Halloween from the salmon of the Clearwater River, who have ample claims on righteous vengeance!
I offered this one up for a geology article on Idaho in a cobble bar, deep-time-and-the-river-flowing sort of thing, but the editor didn’t quite share my vision somehow.
Crest, Cliff & Canyon 
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