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I was hiking along this volcanic shelf in a remote corner of the Central Oregon ranch lands as the sun edged over the valley. The first light embroidered the fields below, the patchwork of farmlands warming into color while Mount Hood stood distant and white against a pale sky. The air was sharp with cold, each breath a small white ribbon, and the landscape felt hushed and quietly alive.
I was hiking along this volcanic shelf in a remote corner of the Central Oregon ranch lands as the sun edged over the valley. The first light embroidered the fields below, the patchwork of farmlands warming into color while Mount Hood stood distant and white against a pale sky. The air was sharp with cold, each breath a small white ribbon, and the landscape felt hushed and quietly alive.