the shotgun shells of ancient lakes
At the conclusion of Friday night’s little league practice, Adam and I scrammed straight out of town for the following morning’s long walk through sagebrush and tickly ticks: Throughoverdown the Cascades, eventually backupalittle onto the steppe plateau- that portion which doesn’t get watered for potatoes, corn and timothy hay and shelves neatly above the neutered Columbia. It’s olive green country right now with pretty speckles of flowers but that will be changing soon enough with a scorching summer on the way.
By lunchtime, the bluebird morning had turned into a watery sun and pretty soon the sky was a drab, dentedmetal gray (if I hear another florid description of a gloomy day including the goddarn word gunmetal I’m gonna go bonkers) afternoon sky portending Saturday night’s weather. Later in the day, we got outta the coulee and wandered a sprawling rim for a long time. I took pictures while Adam collected shotgun shells in a variety of colors, so many of them you will find.