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Jerry keeps a supply of applewood for me in a makeshift shed tucked away in a stand of tall cottonwoods that’s barely a hundred feet from the Yakima River. To get to it, I negotiate my car around stacks of orchard boxes punctuated by assorted vehicles: an old city bus, a fire truck, two jeeps, […] At the gorge in George, the road heads north through miles of dry landscape: dark rock trimmed with sagebrush and sparse grasses. West of Quincy, however, is a completely different story. Here the land is sunglinted green in a wide swath that follows the glistening Columbia as far as the eye can see. Closer in […] |
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