Loose in the Palouse: Born in a Barn

The cow looked at me, quizzically. I looked back, impressed with how well it was put together. We both probably wondered if the other was missing a few screws…

It was the first day of a photography workshop. These are a guilty pleasure, a several day long excursion to photogenic sites in the company of a professional photographer or two, and a handful of enthusiasts like myself. Unlike the trips I do with my wife where the destinations are the primary focus, we’re frequently shepherded by a guide, and photography is something I squeeze in; for these trips the photography is front and center. Some of you may remember another photography workshop I blogged about in 2019.

For this spring trip, our target was the Palouse area of southeastern Washington state. The Palouse is famous for its rolling hills, a la Tuscany. Captured in the right light, the shadows and shading of greens, browns, and yellows make for a truly spectacular landscape.

And while we’ll get to that, eventually, today we’re dealing with that rather unique cow and its surroundings.

(Click on any picture for a larger view)

What’s up Doc?

El Gato checking out the milking machine. A gearnsey, perhaps?

Photography is an odd beast. Once you step away from the box a cell phone camera imposes on you, a whole new set of options arise. I took full advantage of the workshop, breaking out two sets of toys cameras. One was my main, relatively new mirrorless digital camera (a Nikon Z6), and the other was my old, two generations back DSLR, (a Nikon D5000) that I’d had converted to Infrared (590 nm). I usually process the IR pics into black and white photos.

So, while wandering the grounds of a mechanical bull’s girlfriend, I had two cameras strapped on, bandoleer style, with enough imaging ammo to send a Bandito into fantasy land and options of what caliber to use while firing away.

You’d think, between using a modern, more capable, full frame, full color, nearly noiseless camera and an old, beat up, very limited capability camera – with capabilities cut down even more due to the IR conversion – the choice would be obvious. Use the good one.

Naturally, for this set of pictures I ended up liking the IR B/W better, ergo most of the shots in this post are from the old camera. It’s not always the best camera that gives the best pictures…

But just so the Z6 doesn’t feel left out, here’s Bossy from its perspective.

How now brown cow?

For what it’s worth, foliage reflects a lot of infrared light – that’s why the grass in the IR shots looks like it had a cold date with Jack Frost.

One advantage of doing a workshop is the pros will have already been to the region, scouted it out for interesting locations, and worked up the logistics of when to go to Point A and Point B – subject to changes due to weather. When they told us of this place, they didn’t mention the cow. What got their attention was the fence.

Big wheel deal

The property started as a dairy farm back in the 30s, and is currently owned by Steve Dahmen and wife Junette. Steve and Junette are both artists. While Junette works in oil and watercolor, Steve has displayed his artistic skills by building the surrounding wheel fence over a 30-year period. It all started with his building a gate of rake tines, and after friends began contributing wheels, the fence quickly grew. Says Junette Dahmen in a history of the wheel fence, “Every wheel has a story from the smallest to the biggest. There are wheels from every kind of machine, an antique baby buggy, threshing machines, push-binder wheels, sidewinder or delivery rakes, old hay rakes and gears of every kind, large and small.” Today the fence exhibits over 1000 wheels.

Second verse in IR

Wheel portrait with a toothy grin.

The barn was in terrible shape in the early 2000s. Steve and Junette couldn’t afford to fix it, so they donated the barn to the local community development organization in 2004 with the stipulation that they stabilize, maintain, and put it to community use. The outside kept its historical look, but the inside was completely redone and is now home to studios for multiple community artists. The concept was so successful the studios expanded into an attached “shed.” We can only assume that many a work of art has been born in the barn. Who knows if they left the doors open while being inspired.

Unfortunately, when we were there the doors were shut. The studios were closed.

There was another barn on site. I’m guessing it was the original dairy barn.

Old barn with a barn star for luck. Or possibly a barn quilt?

Even the old rope has character

Scattered around the property, old farm machinery showed off their wheels and gears and pulleys, challenging onlooking city slickers to decode their use.

Considering the Palouse is a major wheat growing region, the smart money says the equipment must have been used to cut the wheat and separate out the grains.

But how, exactly? And what happens to all the straw that’s left over? These days they’d likely do it with a combine harvester in one fell swoop, assuming the farmer could afford to buy a machine that costs as much as his house. And we’re not speaking of a rundown shack, either. Nor a machine that’s useful all year long.

I suspect that “Co-op Association” is an important concept in farm country. A way to band together to pay for big grain silos, or combines, or to commiserate over how clueless city folk are on how tough it is to make a living on a farm.

Whatever the case, this city folk enjoyed the trip to the country, and hopefully, these shots and the ones to come will give you folks an appreciation too.

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