Horse Butte is a small red cinder cone a mile from my house. There is a trailhead there, otherwise, it would just be another one of dozens (hundreds?) of buttes that pop up from the ground for miles to the south and east of the Cascade Mountains in Central Oregon. It is topped with a scraggly ponderosa on the south and a row of healthier trees, mostly junipers, to the north.
When I am out on the trails near my house, Horse Butte is the beacon, the way home. The deep red, triangular point stands out for miles in the sagebrush sea. I can see it from the bedroom window and from the yard, but only rarely scramble up to the top. It is a steep pile of loose rubble that offers a great view. I looked for textures that would provide visual interest in black and white, but determining exposure time with the new camera is still a work in progress, and they are perhaps over-exposed. I certainly lost a lot of detail, but am left with subtle horizon lines and moody skies.
It was hot and hazy, thin clouds across the sky, and a steady breeze. Vivid, tiny wildflowers were growing out of rock piles. The pinhole camera sees a different day than I did — and I am excited by the possibilities of our collaboration.
