Monday, December 15, 2008


At the base of Spokane Falls, the river cuts deeply into the ancient bedrock, where the wrath of the old coyote spirit once gouged the valley floor in a fit of selfish rage. Molten rock flowed from his anger and then froze into a solid mass of basalt. This afternoon I look down from the Monroe Street Bridge and see the basalt under a different kind of ice. Beneath the spell of today's freezing temperature, the rocks look like an alien world, but still cold and alone.

Spokane is built on a foundation of basalt.


Jennifer said...

what a great post. this is why i love your blog

Barry Moses (Sulustu) said...

Thank you. I'm glad you like it. Sometime you'll have to tell me more about what you like.


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