These are the things that fill me with longing: cowboy stores in downtown Portland, window displays of authentic western boots, rusty bulletholes in the stop signs on desolate desert roads, the scent of sliced sage.
Just on the other side of Mt. Hood, there is a desert I cannot see. Dry ground I can't scrape my palm across. Open horizons. Possibility.
I have this sense the desert has gone missing, that I might find its mugshot tacked to the wall in the post office, or blotchy in black-and-white on a milk carton, crumpled and sour in the park grass.
The desert is the west I always wanted.
Comments (4)
Rent a car. Drive to Frenchglen. Trust me.
Posted by Michael J. Totten | October 9, 2003 6:07 PM
Posted on October 9, 2003 18:07
Of course, I can't drive, though . . . Otherwise I would.
I trust you. :)
Posted by K | October 9, 2003 6:16 PM
Posted on October 9, 2003 18:16
I'll take the desert anyday. Of course, I need to have an ocean nearby...
Posted by W | October 10, 2003 10:24 AM
Posted on October 10, 2003 10:24
I never knew Oregon had land like this until a photo assignment brought me past Hood and the foothills and onto a flat, long highway by Warm Springs. There many roadside memorials, and a group of horses walked by on the road as I knelt near one to read the euology written with a black sharpie on a white cross.
Not quite the desert, but it felt as close as I've ever been.
abandoned church near warm springs: http://www.stephenvoss.com/photo/travel/oregon/20.html
Posted by steve | October 10, 2003 12:32 PM
Posted on October 10, 2003 12:32