A Second Chance

The big willow tree stood alone for many years in Mud Lake, twenty miles south of Burns, Oregon, along Route 205, where The Narrows butts up against the western edge of Malheur Lake. Long after it died it was still providing perches for birds (cormorants in the image here) and photos for passing photographers.

Mud Lake only appears during particularly rainy years, when water from Malheur expands across sparsely populated rangeland and crosses the highway, so as I topped a long hill above the lake one evening several years ago I recognized the rare opportunity below. The sun, casting wonderfully colored ribbons of light on the water, would set in less than fifteen minutes—barely enough time to park, set up the tripod, and shoot a few considered frames (I was shooting film at the time). It was close. Another fellow stopped and did the same thing—looking back I believe we both had a touch of buck fever. His "Wow" went for me, too.

When I approached the willow on my recent visit to Frenchglen, I knew immediately that it had fallen—its bleached form was missing from the landscape. I pulled up slowly, sorry to see the old tree lying on its side in the water. When I arrived in Frenchglen I asked John Ross, who runs the hotel, what had happened to the willow. He said a strong wind storm passed through the area in April, one last blast the rotted trunk couldn't withstand.

And that was the end of the willow.

Until I returned two days later on my way home.

While my wife took up her binoculars to check out a number of grebes feeding nearby, I set up the tripod and gave the willow a second chance. If there is such a thing as falling gracefully, it had pulled it off. Before, I'd seen it as a purely vertical scene—now, it suggests horizontal (I shot it as a vertical for comparison).

The next time I travel through The Narrows I hope the sun is again performing its magic on Mud Lake, because I know the willow will be ready.