~RichC writes:
Groop members from the Pacific Northwest and California
meet in Frank's shop -- October 27, 2001
RichBix discusses technique with Jack, John and Bob
Okay! How big was that fish?
Wenatchee Jack demonstrates a pencil point butane
soldering iron used to steam out a small dent.
Frank's work bench
with a custom fabricated reproduction lock in progress.
Outside Frank's shop, Groop members
Tony Woods, Bob Rowland, Frank LaRoque, and Jack Michel,
examine an astounding piece of faux finish sample by John Lake (hidden behind Tony).
A dinner together ...
The Dalles, Oregon - a town of 12-thousand, sits on the western side
of the Cascade Mountain Range. Here, the Columbia River divides
Oregon from Washington on its way to the Pacific Ocean.
Summer's cooling coastal clouds fail to breach the Cascade range.
Temperatures in The Dalles wobbles from hot-to-cold much like any
desert community.
Ancient volcanoes are worn away, leaving outcroppings of black rock
and a few cinder cones on the road from Portland. A short dry grass,
like a blond felt, covers the rolling hills. Sudden cliffs, capped with the
blond felt, rise up revealing hard black rock beneath.
Wild orchards of oak, maple and pine range out, then fall back,
following the hilly rolling contours.
Short fall days color the oaks orange, the maple and bay trees yellow.
Evergreen pines stand dark against the blond grass felt,
interspaced with groves of oak, now rusty orange with their fall plumage.
A giant hand, with careless perfection,
cast thousands of beautiful acres with reckless precision.
I could not, I would not, change a thing.
I've marveled at the great fall forests of New England in the fall,
the stunning beauty of the California's Pacific Coast Highway
as it winds through Big Sur, Monterey and the Central Coast.
Each area has its own distinct unsurpassable beauty.
The Dalles is, in its own distinct way, a star among peers.
The signature that wrought this beauty is unmistakable.
And I, with my puny camera, take a picture in the fading twilight,
knowing that it will only capture a ghost of the reality.
Rich Conley
Gig Harbor, WA