God and Nature Spring 2023
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Rain Shadow
By Cheryl Grey Bostrom
For my recent trip to the Dungeness Valley on Washington State’s Olympic Peninsula (the site of my next novel), I packed hiking boots and brought my long lens. I roamed the delicious, sunny area, tucked between the rugged Olympic Mountains to the south and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. With annual precipitation on par with that of Los Angeles, the valley’s in a rain shadow pocket of farmland, beachland, watershed. An island of light, protected by peaks, sheltered from the astounding rainfall and moody clouds beyond its borders.
A landscape that speaks of its Creator at every turn. Here’s a peek.
For my recent trip to the Dungeness Valley on Washington State’s Olympic Peninsula (the site of my next novel), I packed hiking boots and brought my long lens. I roamed the delicious, sunny area, tucked between the rugged Olympic Mountains to the south and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. With annual precipitation on par with that of Los Angeles, the valley’s in a rain shadow pocket of farmland, beachland, watershed. An island of light, protected by peaks, sheltered from the astounding rainfall and moody clouds beyond its borders.
A landscape that speaks of its Creator at every turn. Here’s a peek.
Artery for spawning salmon, the wild, luminous Dungeness River packs life, nourishing land and wildlife. The rich mountain silt it carries builds the soil and shapes the Dungeness Spit at its mouth.
“And my God will meet all your needs...”
—Philippians 4:19
A kite string’s length from the strait, wild ungulates like these—Olympic elk (a.k.a. Roosevelt elk or Roosevelt's wapiti, the largest species of elk in North America)—browse and snooze in farm fields until their spring return to the high country upriver.
"In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe."
—Psalm 4:8
"In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe."
—Psalm 4:8
At the river’s mouth, The Dungeness “Spit."
Composed of alluvial deposits, the spit's a national refuge for wildlife (including us☺️). The lighthouse is way, way out there, toward the end of that long curve. To reach it, you'll hike five miles up that skinny strip of beach.
And the tide better be right, or you'll be wading.
At the river’s mouth, The Dungeness “Spit."
Composed of alluvial deposits, the spit's a national refuge for wildlife (including us☺️). The lighthouse is way, way out there, toward the end of that long curve. To reach it, you'll hike five miles up that skinny strip of beach.
And the tide better be right, or you'll be wading.
For scale, you're looking at countless old growth logs, many the diameter of hotel hot tubs or VW Beetles.
"Granite-strength and safe-harbor-God...
a safe place to be."
—Psalm 62:7-8 MSG
Light—in life's chop.
"When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you.
When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down."
—Isaiah 43:2 MSG
Cheryl Grey Bostrom is a Pacific Northwest native, naturalist, photographer, and author of SUGAR BIRDS, winner of multiple literary awards, including Christianity Today’s 2022 fiction Award of Merit. A former teacher and columnist, she lives with her husband and three irrepressible Gordon setters in rural Washington State.