my favorite ice cream shop as a kid.

blake kathryn
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz

if i look back, i am lost
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Product Placement
Cosmic Funnies
d e v o n
No title available

titsay
One Nice Bug Per Day
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Acquired Stardust

Kaledo Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
No title available
Keni
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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@danielsmith46
my favorite ice cream shop as a kid.
PGE chemist Bob Kaseweter and his family spend a sunny Sunday afternoon in spring feeling the earth tremble at the Timberline turnaround below Mount St. Helens. Taking photos of their visit, Kaseweter’s parents hold up a sign welcoming their new granddaughter, the bulging side of the mountain visible in the background.
With help from former teacher John Eliot Allen — a Portland State professor emeritus overseeing scientific access permits — Kaseweter had secured permit number 3 to monitor a homemade seismometer at his cabin near Spirit Lake Lodge, 4.5 miles north of the volcano.
The same day, he and his fiancée, Beverly Wetherald, installed the instrument’s sensor, timer, chart recorder, and batteries by hand. Through their viewfinders, the mountain was so close they could almost touch it.
—
These photos were shared online by Bob Kaseweter’s sister, Connie Pullen, in 2015.
Isaac Brock, Eric Judy, and a funeral director. Longview, WA, 1996.
“This is why you shouldn't go through closed gates, even if they aren't locked. We had camped at Harts Pass and drove to Early Winters to see what the new highway was all about. There was a gate, but the road beyond looked like nice gravel.
The gate wasn't locked, and no one was around, so we went through. The road got a little rougher.
We stopped for lunch, (picture) and decided to proceed. Then we went over a pass and the downward slope was a muckslide. So we were committed and continued. The road grew narrower, eventually to a jeep trail. There were holes in the ground with wires going somewhere.
A tanker had rolled downhill and was stuck in the trees. We continued, with me on the hood moving rocks so that our non-Jeep wouldn't scrape. I missed one, and the gas began to drain from the tank. We continued. Eventually the road widened to gravel again and the gate was closed but not locked. We found a gas station with a lift at closing time and after being told we couldn't have gone over the road, because it wasn't built, the mechanic put the car on the lift and fixed the gash in the gas tank. The mechanic changed his mind. This is why you shouldn't go through closed gates. Although, I'm glad I did. This was a long time ago and I don't remember whether it was '70 or '71. I was behind the camera, those in the picture are no longer with us.”
A story from an old Washingtonian
A man among plants on the island of Maui, Hawaii, 1924.
An underwater restaurant in Lindesnes, Norway called Under.
lundonlens
Seattle from the top of the Space Needle, 1962
1973 photograph of the Les Halles excavation in Paris reveals a hidden architectural past buried beneath modern streets. The buildings rest on reinforced structures while the Fountain of the Innocents clings to scaffolding on the right. Beneath them lay remnants of structures dating back centuries, some over 800 years old.
64 years ago - Construction of the Seattle Freeway's Lakeview-Galer Viaduct, skirting the west slope of Capitol Hill, in 1961. The Lake Union Steam Plant, built between 1914 and 1921, is to the left. Overlooking Lake Union, the landmark Steam Plant is easily recognized by drivers because of its six smokestacks.
The Broughton Flume, located at the Hood River junction on the Columbia River at the Washington/Oregon border, was an engineering marvel of its time. From its inception in 1923 until its closing in 1986, it held the title of the world's fastest and longest water flume, a record that stood for over six decades. This impressive structure played a significant role in the development of the region and in the history of water transportation.
Designed by the Broughton Lumber Company, the flume was initially built to carry logs from the rugged forests near Mount Hood down to the river. The Columbia River, a major waterway, served as the perfect location for the flume, which utilized the natural gravity of the landscape to transport timber efficiently. The flume stretched over 8 miles, winding its way through dense forests, steep terrains, and rugged landscapes. Its ability to transport logs at high speeds helped revolutionize the logging industry in the Pacific Northwest.
The Broughton Flume was a technological feat of its time, designed to handle large volumes of logs, which were sent down the waterway at speeds of up to 30 miles per hour. The structure was composed of wooden slats and was supported by a network of trestles that spanned deep ravines and steep slopes.
The flume was powered entirely by gravity, with no mechanical pumps or engines. The logs would slide down the flume into the Columbia River, where they were then floated to sawmills for processing.
Despite its critical role in the logging industry, the Broughton Flume was not without challenges. The constant wear and tear from the powerful water currents and the harsh weather conditions of the region meant that the flume required frequent maintenance and repairs. However, the ingenuity behind its design allowed it to remain in operation for over 60 years, during which it became a vital part of the local economy.
By the mid-1980s, the rise of modern logging technology, including trucks and mechanized transportation, rendered the Broughton Flume obsolete. The structure was eventually dismantled, but its legacy as a symbol of innovation and progress in the Pacific Northwest lives on. The Broughton Flume remains a fascinating chapter in the history of water transportation, and its story serves as a reminder of the remarkable feats of engineering that helped shape the industries of the early 20th century.
Christmas tree outside The Bon Marché, Seattle
A Happy Looking Family, USA, 1959
Memorial Stadium - 1962 World’s Fair
Random bedroom.