The Barn on Towne Road
The barn stands tall where grasses bend,
Where skies stretch wide and highways end.
A sentinel of work and will,
Its weathered boards are sturdy still.
No floods to rise, no storms to tear,
Just quiet winds that comb the air.
The Sequim sun, the golden ground,
A land where rain is seldom found.
Yet seasons pass in whispered tread,
Soft frost that crowns its sloping head.
Spring’s gentle light, the summer’s glow,
The autumn fields in amber flow.
It watches time with steady grace,
A mark upon this open place.
Not lost to past, not left behind,
But standing strong—enduring time.
Braving the Cold: An Olympic Photo Club Afternoon on the Dungeness Levee
The plan was simple—meet at the old Dungeness Schoolhouse, frame its history through our lenses, let the afternoon light catch its weathered walls. But when we arrived, the past was occupied. Warm glows from the windows, voices inside, a private event we hadn’t expected.
So, we turned instead to the Dungeness Levee, where the wind met us with a force that stole our breath. It howled across the open flats, a relentless, biting thing that made us second-guess. Two members did just that—choosing warmth over the fight, slipping away before the cold could set in.
Three of us stayed, stubborn against the gusts. We braced ourselves, hoods up, gloveless hands buried in pockets, lenses aimed toward the churning sky. Every shot was a battle— fingers stiff, the wind pressing, pushing, daring us to stay.
Thirty minutes. That was all we could take. Enough to say we tried, enough to know the wind had won. We packed up, shivering, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
On the way home, I drove down Towne Road, pulling over where I always do. The barn stood against the wind, unshaken, unmoved—just as it always has. One of my favorites in Sequim.
I stepped out once more, the cold still biting, but this time, the wind did not fight me. I framed the barn beneath the storm-heavy sky, clicked the shutter, and smiled. Some things, no matter the weather, are always worth stopping for.
