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Stories written by Bruce Patterson

Missing the Obvious

I saw on CNN this neck-tied worldly philosopher and political prognosticator pronounce that the trouble with the truth is that you can’t prove it. Since I’ve heard that kind of…

Plinking Rockchucks

When it comes to fat, furry, bucktoothed rodents, I can’t say that yellow-bellied marmots are my favorites. Then again, I’m not well acquainted with them and have nothing against them.…

Redwood Winter

Redwood Winter

Big tree, steep ground redwood timber felling was about as close to living on the edge as a body could comfortably get. It was like being a flea biting into…

Quitting Grapes

Must have been sometime after 1980 when, once and for all, I resolved to quit working grapes. It was a god-awful hot afternoon and I was harvesting pinot noir (?)…

AV: Alien Evaluations?

AV: Alien Evaluations?

I must have been five or six years old when I saw the first movie that scared the bejesus out of me. It hit Big Screens Everywhere in the summer…

Winning The West

I read somewhere that if you took all those who died along the Oregon and California forks of the Immigrant Trail and made them into highway markers they’d appear every…

Wanderlust

I’ve wanted to get to Goose Lake ever since I was a little boy in LA and I spotted it on a map. Lying about 2/3rds in California and the…

Wits End

One nice thing about getting my second book, Turned Round in My Boots (Heyday) published, was that it got me re-connected with a half dozen of my old army buddies.…

Christmas Valley

Trish, Jeff and I are on a hike and we’ve just arrived atop the crooked, molar-toothed rim of a mile-round, 350-foot-tall basaltic tuff ring called Fort Rock, which is Christmas…

Natural Wonders

When I learned that Oregon, in addition to having an official State Flower, an official State Bird, Fish, Gem and what all, also has seven officially designated Natural Wonders, it…

Misery Ridge

Misery Ridge

Abel is over from Portland. It’s a couple of hours past sunrise and, along with Trisha and Jeff, we’re standing atop a fat fingertip of rimrock overlooking a perfect horseshoe…

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