We all have our own special places. Butternut Canyon is one of mine. A few years back while exploring Washington State’s Columbia River Gorge I turned north on an unmarked road entering a wide, majestic canyon. The land is dry, deeply scoured by massive ice age floods. Soon I came across a small lake, an unmarked turnoff trailed off into sun burnt grass accented with fragrant sage amidst a grove of butternut trees. I set up camp for the night.
The next morning with tripod and camera slung over my shoulder I met this magnificent beauty. Butternuts are not native to the west. I began to wonder what brought this incredible being here. There is a creek nearby, marginal grazing land and faint remnants of habitation, must have been a homesteader I thought.
I wondered what it was like here so long ago, who were these folks? How did they make it here? Did they have children? Where did they go to school? Did they go to school? This is the magic of discovery.
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