A New Morning

Photography provides ways of seeing the world from a fresh perspective. Early in my career I followed my passion for nature by photographing wildflowers, gradually learning the craft of the camera’s focus and exposure, and lying on the ground in contorted positions to get just the right angle. Sometimes these could be artistic rather than straightforward photos, and the discipline taught me that good photography does not come easy.

Half a century later, I am still photographing flowers and leaves, but in more evocative compositions. By carefully controlling what is in focus in the foreground, and letting the background blur into pleasing patterns of colors, I create work that some might call “painterly,” but which is simply a more thoughtful impression of nature.

During the past two weeks I have have gone walking with a zen-like spirit, mindfully focused on leaves and other natural details with my new approach in mind. I walked through two Japanese gardens, the University of Washington Arboretum, around Seattle’s Green Lake, and in Olympic National Park; most of the pictures here are from those walks.

Enjoy the work and click on them to see them larger. If you would like to purchase any of them, contact me at lee@leerentz.com. These are limited edition prints that I have printed on Japanese Unryu paper, which has a soft, painterly look with visible mulberry fibers giving it a special texture. Since this paper is fragile, I don’t trust sending collectors just the print. I mount it on photographic mount board and mat it with a triple-thick white cotton board of the highest quality. The sizes available are 6″ square print matted to 10 x 10,” 11.5″ square matted to 16 x 16,” and 16″ square matted to 22.5″. The prices respectively are $75, $150, and $300, with free shipping to the lower 48 states.

October at Staircase in Olympic National Park

The pleasant white noise of water running over rocks in the North Fork Skokomish River blends with the occasional warning clicks of a concerned Pacific Wren and the wind rushing through the needles and leaves of conifers and maples. Low angle sunlight occasionally shines through the brilliant orange leaves of Bigleaf Maples along the river’s edge. A family of American Dippers walks underwater through the rapids, searching for insect larvae. A cousin of the robin, the Varied Thrush, has migrated in for the winter and individuals are foraging through the mossy forest.

Each time I come to Staircase, named for an actual wooden staircase that a military expedition built to climb over rugged nearby cliffs, I am enchanted by the exotic lifeforms that populate this rainforest. There are the Icicle Mosses that drape the limbs of maples and dead conifers so thickly that I wonder how the branches can support the weight of this wet mass of moss.

There are Dog Vomit Slime Molds that we encounter in the woods. These are neither plant nor animal and normally live their lives as single cells, but when something triggers them, these cells come together to act as a larger organism that actually oozes through the forest in a search for food.

There is the Methuselah’s Beard, the longest lichen in the world, hanging like Spanish Moss from the limbs of riverside maples and firs. It is the Methuselah’s Beard that attracts me to frequently return to Staircase. There is one special Bigleaf Maple that the lichen has enjoyed living on for years, to the point that much of the tree looks decorated in fake spider webs for Halloween. I thought I was the only photographer attracted to this tree, but it turns out there are many others; on one recent trip two photographers came by while I was photographing and said that they make pilgrimages to photograph this tree every autumn. This lichen species is extremely sensitive to air pollution and is used by scientists as an indicator of poor quality air; it has been declining across much of its range around the world for this very reason. But at this location on the Olympic Peninsula, bathed in moisture coming off the Pacific Ocean, the air is clean and wonderful. The lichen thinks so as well, and looks to be content living here.

Click on each of the photographs below to see them larger. Much more of my work is at leerentz.com. Reach out to me at lee@leerentz.com if you have any questions.

When Frost is on the Pumpkin

I bought this big pumpkin from an Amish farmer’s roadside stand in late September, then set it, along with a matching companion, on each side of the house entrance. There they remained until winter, when I had to move them in order to make way for snowblowing. I set the pumpkins out in an open place, and after a freezing rain I noticed that this one was glazed with a thin veneer of ice. The patina speaks to me of age and autumn and the arrival of winter.

PRINT INFORMATION: This photograph is printed from a digital file on Japanese Mulberry paper using pigment ink. Matting is done with a thick white cotton rag mat. All materials are archival; designed to last for generations.

LIMITED EDITION: This photographic print is part of a limited edition printed by photographer Lee Rentz. The edition consists of 250 prints, which includes all sizes and methods of printing. The chart below lists the sizes available. You can see and order this photograph and others done in a similar style at LeeRentz.com/pumpkin

Autumn in Paradise

As summer wildflowers give way to autumn frosts, Mount Rainier National Park’s Paradise meadows transform into a wash of brilliant scarlet. The huckleberry leaves get most of the credit for the color as the plants prepare for some of the heaviest snows in North America; in the winter of 2020/2021 the gauge at Paradise recorded 672″ of snow!

The trails at Paradise wander through these huckleberry meadows, which are brilliant on sunny days in mid-September through early October. There is always the chance of seeing a Black Bear browsing the last of the huckleberries, and birders love the opportunity to see White-tailed Ptarmigan and Sooty Grouse in the meadows.

On every recent hike I’ve taken at Paradise, I’ve shared the trails with hundreds of happy and inspired people of all races, out for a wonderful day away from the cities around Puget Sound. Paradise indeed.

Click on a photograph below to see it larger.

All of my photographs are available as prints. You can view a huge variety at leerentz.com or by emailing me at lee@leerentz.com for a quotation.

DESIGNATE MOUNT BAKER AS AMERICA’S 64TH NATIONAL PARK

If you agree that Mount Baker would be a fine addition to the National Park System, please let your national congressional representative or senator know your feelings. National Parks have been called “America’s Best Idea,” and it is time to expand the system to include all the other great areas that represent the best nature of America.

For more information about my photography or to purchase a print, go to leerentz.com. Or contact me at lee@leerentz.com or on my Lee Rentz Photography Facebook page.

SILENCE OF THE CANYON

All American Man, a pictograph created some 700 years ago, with a shield design incorporating red, white, and blue (or black) pigments, and made by an Ancestral Puebloan or Fremont artist, Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Salt Creek Canyon, located in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park, is where my wife and I chose to backpack in October of 2017. Our last backpack in Canyonlands occurred in October of 1976: 41 years ago! It was wonderful to return to this land of red slickrock, golden cottonwoods, and starry, starry nights. This time, we were enchanted by the evidence of the Ancestral Puebloan People of the region. Their houses, granaries, potsherds, and pictographs provided a spiritual presence and brought the canyon alive in our imagination. 

There are trail guidebooks and blogs that provide detailed descriptions of the hike, so I decided instead to simply provide a visual look at the canyon through my photography and to use a few word impressions to give a sense of the experience.

Karen Rentz climbing a route through a sandstone fin within Salt Creek Canyon

10,000 years ago, a Raven chuckles to its mate and young as they play in the air currents along the canyon walls. A Camel glances upward at the sound, then resumes munching a mouthful of Sagebrush, vaguely wondering why it hasn’t seen any other Camels for years. Wind quietly flutters the Cottonwood leaves as a Coyote howls in the distance.

800 years ago, Ancestral Puebloan women chatter and giggle along the creek while filling clay pots with water. Children play hide-and-seek among the sagebrush and rocks, shouting suddenly upon spotting a companion. Turkeys gobble at the irritation of being packed together in the village’s pen. Men chip arrowheads from chunks of chalcedony, creating sharp percussive sounds. Then a sudden shout to ascend to the cliff fortress, as strangers are spotted creeping along Salt Creek!

700 years on, the sound of cattle lowing and spurs-a-jangling occasionally brings the canyon alive, as ranchers run cows in the sagebrush. Picture the clouds of dust during the roundup as cowboys herd the cattle along ancient trails. Listen to the crackle of pinyon logs in the evening campfire while cowboys scrape their tin plates; a Great Horned Owl hoots in the distance.

60 years ago, a jeep engine roars as a uranium prospecter shifts into low gear while descending steep red slickrock. He gets out and tests the sandstone with his rock pick, then tosses the rocks aside with a clatter. He camps tonight near the stream, the soft gurgling reassuring him. Then a wildcat screams from the cliffs above.

In October of 2017, we set up camp as the last warm sun glows on the cliffs. I use a rock to pound the tentstakes into clay, while the gas stove hisses as water starts to boil for our evening meal. After dinner, all is quiet as we snuggle in a warm sleeping bag. Two Coyotes howl back and forth in the canyon. There are no human sounds in the distance under the vast panorama of stars.

Dead tree among the colorful sandstone formations within Salt Creek Canyon

Here is a selection of other photographs from the trip. Double Click on one to see them larger and with captions.

Hand Print at Big Ruin, an Ancestral Pueblo village site within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Scrapers made of chalcedony or a related quartz rock left by the Ancestral Puebloan people living at Big Ruin within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Salt Creek, a perennial stream that is laden with fine sediment and bordered with algae, but is drinkable, within Upper Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Sandstone Formations near Big Ruin, an Ancestral Puebloan village site within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Wedding Ring Arch within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Desert varnish runs down the cliff above Big Ruin, an Ancestral Pueblo village site within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Dry corncobs that are some 700 years old at Big Ruin, an Ancestral Pueblo village site within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Karen Rentz with tall Rubber Rabbitbrush, Ericameria nauseoa, along the trail within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Blue Gramma, Bouteloua gracilis, seed heads of a native grass growing within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Fragile cryptobiotic soil crust within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Shedded rattlesnake skin with potsherds left by the Ancestral Puebloan people living at Big Ruin within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Sediment in water near campsites SC1 and SC2 within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Mule Deer antlers used as a trophy decoration in Kirk’s Cabin in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Yucca, Yucca spp., growing with sagebrush and cottonwoods along the trail through Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Ruins of a group of masonry structures made by the Ancestral Puebloan people some 700 years ago within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Claretcup, Echinocereus triglochidiatus, forming a large mound of prickly cactus stems in Canyonlands National Park’s Salt Creek Canyon, Utah, USA

Mano and metate used for grinding corn some 700 years ago at Big Ruin, an Ancestral Pueblo village site within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Potsherds in black-on-white style left by the Ancestral Puebloan people living at Big Ruin within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Moonlight illuminating the rock formations, with the Milky Way in the sky, viewed from campsite within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Ancestral Puebloan House with a Mule Deer, Odocoileus hemionus, antler within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

16°F morning at campsite within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Trail winding through Prickly Pear Cactus within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Sunset glow on sandstone formations, viewed from Camp SC3 within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Ruins of masonry building created by Ancestral Puebloan people within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Mule Deer, Odocoileus hemionus, antler dropped under Gambel Oak trees in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Autumn Gambel Oak, Quercus gambelii, leaves and shadows within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Starry, starry, night camping within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Ancient pictographs created by the Ancestral Puebloan people within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Fremont’s Cottonwood, Populus fremontii, turning gold in autumn, with the cooler tones of sagebrush and rabbitbrush, Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Kirk’s Cabin, built as a seasonal shelter by a rancher, with adzed logs and a fireplace, in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Sunset glow on sandstone formations, viewed from Camp SC3 within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Dead tree and night sky in campsite SC 1 in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Dramatic Rock Formations in Salt Creek Canyon within The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Squash plant that has persisted through reseeding for some 800 years, with a masonry granary once used by Ancestral Puebloan people within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Prickly Pear Cactus, Opuntia sp., thriving in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Handprints made over 800 years ago by Ancestral Puebloan people on the sandstone wallls of Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Old wood wagon wheel used for bringing in supplies to Kirk’s Cabin, an early ranching outpost, in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Slickrock Landscape in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Old wood wagon wheel used for bringing in supplies to Kirk’s Cabin, an early ranching outpost, in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Backpackers resting under a rock overhang within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Slickrock Landscape in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Kirk’s Cabin, built as a seasonal shelter by a rancher, with adzed logs and a sandstone chimney, in Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Stylized pictograph, one of a group known as The Four Faces, created by an Ancestral Puebloan or Fremont artist, within Salt Creek Canyon in The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, USA

Canyonlands National Park’s Salt Creek Canyon was a quiet place during our four day backpacking trip. In fact, we didn’t see anyone for 2 1/2 days during the hike, making it the perfect wilderness experience.  It is a place suffused with remnants of the past, as well as spectacular slickrock formations and evidence of wildlife.

When we visited in October, we started out at the Cathedral Butte Trailhead and hiked in about as far as there was potable water. It is named Salt Creek for a reason: there are alkali salts suspended in the water that quickly clogged our filter, so we had to depend upon iodine tablets and boiling water in order to get drinkable water. No problem if you are prepared.

October was colder than we expected, with the three clear nights reaching down to 16°F, 13°F, and the last night at 11°F. Our down sleeping bags were perfect; don’t expect to be warm with summer-weight bags. The Milky Way and moonlight were wonderful in the canyon, and it was great to climb into the fluffy sleeping bag after our stargazing sessions.

Black Bears are frequently sighted in the canyon, so the National Park Service now requires that hikers carry bearproof canisters. What would the wilderness be without a few predators to make us wary?

Salt Creek Canyon is filled with evidence of prior inhabitants. Please, leave everything untouched so that our descendents can enjoy the magic of this spiritual place.

The National Park Service requires backpacking permits for Salt Creek Canyon, and there are four campsites that are assigned when hikers get their permits. Go to the Canyonlands National Park website for more information about the park and backpacking permits.

For more information about my photography go to Lee Rentz Photography.

THE SNOWMAN PROJECT: Ephemeral Trail People by Karen Rentz & Friends; Part 1

We were staying in a log hut during a Seattle Mountaineers trip to Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park, one of the dramatic high country huts in the Canadian Rockies, when it snowed one night. The next morning, Karen led an effort to create a snowman that reflected the changing seasons. It had a rain hat and a warm woolen scarf, as well as an evergreen mouth, a traditional carrot nose, and eyes of still-flowering purple asters that a Pack Rat had cut in front of our cabin. Making this “Hippy Chick” snowwoman took our minds off the Grizzly Bear tracks that were left overnight on the trail that went right by the hut. 

The guy staying in the hut next to ours  had been camping about a mile away, but a bear invaded his camp in the night and scared him, so he moved into the cabin. Perhaps our snowman worked as a talisman to ward off hungry grizzlies.

When backpackers unexpectedly encounter a group of, ahem, older hikers, making a snowman along a trail, they are delighted. After all, snowmen take us back to the days of carefree childhood, when playing in the snow was simply what we did in the winter, bundled up in snowsuits, woolen mittens, and warm boots. During those winter days of long ago, those of us growing up in northern climates would also make snow angels and erupt into spontaneous snowball fights–reflecting the sweet and agressive sides of our childhood natures.

Karen Rentz started creating snowmen during backpacking trips at least a decade ago. Gradually her friends came to expect that when they came to a remnant snowfield during a summer hike, they were going to be roped into making a snowman, and that it was a fun distraction from the exertion of hard hiking. Almost everyone pitched in, gathering hemlock cones and fallen lichens and twigs and leaves and whatever other natural materials were at hand, sometimes supplemented–long enough to take pictures–with mittens and hats.

These are sweet-tempered snowmen, unlike the snowmen that sprang from the mind of Bill Watterson’s Calvin in the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip (which I still miss): Calvin and Hobbes. Karen’s snowmen usually smile through a twig mouth and they have funny hats or hair and are gentle spirits, reflecting her soul.

All snowmen are ephemeral, of course, and that is part of their charm. When Karen and friends make a snowman, it some times lasts an hour or two, perhaps for another day or two, with sunshine and gravity taking their inevitable toll. But the short lives are okay, for none of us lasts all that long on this earth, and they are a reminder to stop and smell the roses: for that alone, making a snowman is worthwhile.

On Mount Townsend we built this snowman on the top edge of a very long snow slope that descended several thousand feet at a steep pitch, so we had to be careful not to slide off. On this spot once stood a U.S. Forest Service fire lookout cabin built in 1933 to watch for fires in Olympic National Forest, but it was destroyed in 1962.

This Mount Townsend snowman was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. We found the old spoon at the edge of the snow field, and believe that it was lost when the lookout cabin was destroyed. The eyes, nose, and buttons are made of small rocks that had been broken off the bedrock when water trickled into cracks in the rock, and then froze. These rocks originated millions of years ago on the Pacific Ocean floor, then were thrust up above the ocean to form the rugged Olympic Mountains. But enough of geology. The hair is made of fallen branches of Mountain Hemlock.

Karen Rentz with the Mount Townsend snowman. Cold knee!

While backpacking in The Enchantments of Washington State, there was a bit of remnant snow at the time the golden Alpine Larch needles were falling in October, so we gave this hula snowgirl a Hawaiian skirt, thinking about how much warmer it would be to be hiking in the islands.

There was just enough snow left over on that Enchantments hike to make a snowman’s head about the size of a big man’s fist; cones make up the eyes.

We built this snowman along the Pacific Crest Trail, at the very place we met a hiker who had already come all the way from Mexico and was going all the way to Canada. He was unique in that he was quite a dapper hiker, wearing a Panama hat, a neatly trimmed beard, and a necktie (really!); he said he was between jobs and wanted to be ready in case someone wanted to interview him for a job along the trail. Hey, I’d hire him for his sense of humor!

This Pacific Crest Trail snowman had pretty lupine flowers for hair, Mountain Hemlock cones for a nose and buttons, pine needles for eyebrows, and a happy twiggy smile. This snow field was located in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, a place where there once towered a volcano on the scale of Mount Rainier. It sits directly between Mount Rainier and Mount Adams in Gifford Pinchot National Forest, named for the founder of the national forest system who worked in Theodore Roosevelt’s administration.

Karen and I were driving through Yosemite National Park one fine autumn day and came upon a patch of snow that hadn’t yet melted from an early autumn snowfall. So, we just had to make this cute little snowman with Lodgepole Pine cone eyes. One of our photos of this snowman was featured in an article about quirky snowmen on NPR’s website several years ago.

We hiked with two friends around Gold Creek Pond in October of 2012, when the first heavy snows were starting to blanket the Cascade Mountains above Seattle. The last of the autumn leaves were still vivid, but the first major snow of winter had deposited enough snow to make a snowman. Gold Creek was also enjoying a Kokanee Salmon run, so while Karen did most of the work on the snowman, I did some underwater photography of the salmon, which were the color of burgundy. The underwater photography was so cool that I returned the next day to do some more. By then, the snowman was looking a bit under the weather, but I would be too if I had to stand in the same place all night. The second day, a young gold miner walked by and chatted with me (remember, this is GOLD Creek Pond); he carried some mining equipment–as well as having an exposed pistol on his belt. Mining is a serious activity, and that fall the price of gold was shooting upward, so a guy had to be prepared for outlaws.

We used vivid Vine Maple leaves for the hat, and Douglas Fir cones for the eyes. Gold Creek Pond is located near Snoqualmie Pass above Seattle in the Mount Baker–Snoqualmie National Forest.

Karen and I hiked up to Melakwa Lake at the end of July. It was a cold, foggy backpacking trip to one of the high mountain lakes located closest to Seattle, and at the beginning of the hike the trail leads under a beautiful elevated section of I-90 (it is elevated to allow avalanches to pass safely underneath). We created this handsome snowman, which we named “Misty Melakwa,” atop a remnant snow field. The hair is of a Mountain Hemlock branch that had turned yellow, perhaps after being buried for nine months under the snow, and the buttons and eyes are of hemlock cones. The spiky hat is a piece of old, weathered wood that might have been a hard knot from a rotted tree. “Misty Melakwa” has a bit of the devil in him, or so it looks from the crooked smile. Melakwa was an Indian word for “mosquito,” so we’re glad the weekend wasn’t warmer, allowing those pesky devils to swarm.

Karen Rentz with her creation. Our snowmen are not big, and they don’t live long.

Lee Rentz during one of his occasional beard phases (it would be much whiter today).

During a hike to Mount Fremont Lookout in Mount Rainier National Park in August, we started making a snowman a little ways off the trail on a remnant snow field. In this national park, the volunteer park rangers are adamant about staying on the trail, and we were several yards off the trail. I saw a ranger coming up the trail, and figured I would head her off at the pass by chatting with her about the trail. But she saw my comrades making the snowman and wondered what we were up to. I guess she figured that a group of older people making a snowman in late summer was a harmless, though slightly eccentric, activity so she let us off with a warning: “Please make sure you take a giant step onto the snow field to make sure you don’t crush any tiny plants about to emerge at the edge of the snow.” Duly noted. And done. (Though it should also be noted that a group of volunteer rangers was gathered off the trail around the lookout in lawn chairs, where they were having a party.)

With the lovely pink hat and fashionable scarf, this snow lady is definitely a girly-girl.

Karen, Joan, and Junko make up the trio of ladies who built this lovely creature.

A trail shelter at Boulder Camp in Olympic National Forest was our destination for this day hike. The trail shelter must have enjoyed divine intervention, because giant avalanches had frequently thundered down the surrounding mountains, but always seemed to miss the hut. We built this friendly snowman, with his carefully parted lichen hair, as a talisman to bring us good luck during our visit. He certainly looks friendly, and he is standing atop a tree that had been toppled by a long-ago avalanche.

Boulder Camp is located in the deep Upper Dungeness River Valley below Marmot and Buckhorn Passes in the Olympics. There aren’t very many of these shelters in Washington State’s mountains, but they do provide a dry place to get out of the rain when the weather takes a turn.

With hair and arms of Wolf Lichen, this snow woman is dancing atop a precarious snow bridge over a tiny creek. Wherever a creek flows under a snow field in the mountains, it melts the snow from underneath. Careless hikers can plunge through the thinned snow if they’re not careful, and that’s probably what happened to this little snowman after we left. RIP, tiny dancer!

A happy snowman made by Karen Rentz and Linda Moore along the Grassy Knoll trail in the Columbia River Gorge. Mount Hood points into the sky in the distance. His happy feet look to be made of Douglas Fir branches, with cones for toes. 

Our most recent snowman, made in October high in The Enchantments above Horseshoe Lake, was in a meadow that still sported a few late summer wildflowers and lots of Pikas running around gathering winter hay in the meadows around the rocks. Pine hair and chartreuse lichen details make the snow guy look a bit crazy. This was created by Karen, Junko, and me.

Reason #1 for carrying an orange trowel is to scrape hardened snow off snowbanks in order to build a snowman. Reason #2 is, well, digging holes for #2. This happy hiker gal was enjoying the cool snows of summer in Mount Rainier National Park.

Made in Canada, this snowman features a fine rock hat, as well as nice rock body parts.

On Mount Rainier, even snowmen need ropes to climb the 14,410 foot high volcano, and this one has stylish ropes of red and purple.

The hat is made of layers and decorations of volcanic rock, while the scarf was made of flagging tape (removed before we left, of course). This was along the Skyline Trail near Paradise.

The Snowman Project will be continued, as long as there is snow to shape and trails to walk and bodies that can make the journey.

To see thousands of my photographs in large file sizes for use in magazines or other printed materials or electronic media, go to my NEW website at Lee Rentz Photography or go to my Flickr Photostream.