The Palouse in May
Every year for the past 5-6 years I have wanted to see the Palouse in May. My birthday is at the end of May, so for some reason I got it stuck in my head that I wanted that for my birthday. But every year something else came up - not all bad things.
Like, I had a friend in town visiting one late May because it was the only time it would work for her and I didn’t want to miss that visit, one year my mom was in the middle of her chemo treatment and I didn’t want to be away for any of that, and one year I had just come home from a 4500 mile road trip and didn’t have another 400 miles in me, so I waited. Finally this year, even with all the chaos going on - maybe because of all the chaos - I was more determined than ever to get there. I couldn’t let another beautiful green season get away.
I have driven through Eastern Washington a hundred times but never in May, which means I’ve only seen it mostly brown. But in May everything is growing. The wheat is green, the beans are green, the weeds are green, so much more is green.
My friend Karen (who I have known since 8th grade) and her husband Pat, took me to all the important places! That’s right! The places people park their old cars and trucks to rust out in the “back 40” and the barns full of tractor parts and old wood. It doesn’t get any better!
For someone who loves and collects rusty, found objects it was heaven. If I had a couple hundred acres a few would definitely be where I parked old trucks and cars to watch them become beautiful rusty treasures. My husband doesn’t share this love of rust, but Karen’s husband does, so he knew where to go. Thanks Pat!
After spending a couple hours taking pictures of old metal we headed out to see some natural beauty.
The views from above the Snake river and a top Steptoe Butte were breathtaking. Down their own long and winding road we drove between the rolling hills and I watched for deer moving in the draws. A draw, I learned, is a place where the middle of a hill meets another hill, a winding, zigzagging ravine where runs water down toward a creek or river. They are crevices filled with trees and wildflowers that create lush lines of life, streaking vertically between wheat fields.
Toward the end of their road you come to a bluff overlooking the Snake River. I bet all draws and creeks run to this river. It’s not as big as the Columbia, but it is still an immense body of moving water, cutting deep through a million hills for as far as you can see. You can’t take it all in and it was hard to turn away.
After the river we drove back between the rolling hills to Steptoe Butte. Pat was so gracious every time I asked if he would stop so I could get a picture, he was more than happy to back the truck up.
From a distance the butte was looking pretty unimpressive. After all I was raised in the shadow of Mt. Rainier, at an elevation of 14,441 feet, and the butte itself is only just over 3600 feet. But as we coiled upward around the cone, winding our way to what turned out to be the very top, I discovered the butte isn’t the main attraction. I think Karen and Pat had been reading my mind all along. Suddenly I understood their secret. We weren’t looking AT the butte, we were looking FROM the butte.
From the top the patchwork fields were spread out like waves of gently folding, greens and browns covering the rolling hills, right up to the hazy blue mountains in the vast distance. They totally got me, I was speechless.
As we were standing on the edge of the rocky peak, with the unseasonably, warm wind whipping around us, looking out over the acres of farmland, I asked Pat if those mountains in the distance were Oregon. He laughed and said no, but I’m pretty sure I could see to another state from there!
The bonus for the day was driving away after dinner alongside a wild thunder storm. Lightening escorted me most the way back, toward the west side of the state and home. I highly recommend a trip through the Palouse in May. Although I already have an air bnb booked so I can stay longer and ride on a combine in August!