The Furious Spinner

We live at the edge of the Big River in the Cascade Mountains. Sometimes we wonder: Do we live in the mountains or do we live on the shore? I suppose we live betwixt and between. We live on the threshold. I have often felt as though I live at the heart of the world: Wy'east to the south; Pahto to the north. I have stood on each mountain many times. Sometimes these mountains make me gasp for air; sometimes they make me sigh in awe. They are always beautiful even as I'm aware that they could erupt at any moment: They are volcanoes. Today as I was coming home from Portland, I drove toward Wy'east for a long while, as usual. The sun was out, and the sky was clear. The mountain was covered in snow and looked glorious. It reminded me of a giant goddess (Anna Perenna perhaps), lounging regally, head bowed, covered in a white robe made of snow, mountain, and bits of lava. Parts of the snowy mountain looked shiny as the sun hit it, like white metal—or cloudy ice cubes. While I watched the mountain and drove toward home, I heard on the radio that they had just found the body of one of the missing climbers. We're still all hoping they'll find the other two men alive. They had to ride out the recent storms on a mountaintop where the winds were at speed and intensity of a category 3 hurricane. I wish the climbers well. I hope they are alive and will soon be reunited with their families.

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All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2007 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.