If 'home is where you park it,'

then home is Bend right now. Even as the wall of my former converted garage/basecamp comes down I am reminded that Bend is still my hometown. The simple things, like knowing the roads and the TV anchormen, make Bend a more familiar place. Yet, memories and images of other 'homes' are bound to come to mind. It is indeed hard to settle into one place when one is regularly comparing the place you've been to the place you are at now. I'm sure teachers of many great cultures have parables to warn against such things. For now I'll disregard the mythos, and happily live in the past.

I went back to these pictures because I remembered the moment more than the picture taking. It was very early in the North Cascades on a shelf above Wing Lake. I think it was the orange hue that woke me up, but immediately I turned to see the sun's crescent illuminating the rugged range to the north. I was up and out of the tent. I watched as simultaneously the clouds curled from the west into the valley below and the sun crepted to is full orb. The sun was full, big, and deep red and the valley writhed with clouds that had came from nowhere. We had camped here for two days now and were accustomed to the endless beautiful views and lighting, but this was something outstanding. I woke Michelle up. Her dismay slowly warmed in t o gratitude as the show went on.

I took some pictures. We walk out to the point for an even more unobstructed view. The dance between the outrageously red sun and the ethereal morning clouds continued. We stayed up to watch but quickly fell asleep as the red turned to gold, and eyes had to again squint against the brightness. The warmth was welcomed to keep back the chilly alpine morning. Home felt more comfortable than ever.