Here is my previous post from Rainier. Rainier.
We descended through clouds that rose from the lip of the Pacific as a portent of the tempest to come. We drove through twilight and storm and awoke to wet roads. We hiked through the very heart of the clouds we'd flown through the night before. If you can't tell by my last few blog posts, photographing in the fog has been a theme with me since.
On the southern slopes of the hulking volcano is a subalpine meadow environment dubbed Paradise. Peak wildflowers had come and gone, but we still found hills resplendent with purple and decorated with splashes of yellow and spent a wonderful afternoon wandering along the trails and inspecting the dew-covered bows and flowers of Paradise.
We drove carefully as the fog became thicker near the visitor center. I stepped from the road and made a few photographs of the blossoms and rocks and the ghosts of pines lurking as shades on the edge of the world. A bit further down the slope I could see a small grouping of stunted pines circled by wildflowers. Their bows were huddled together opposite their snow-bent trunks as if in fear of the great tower of ice and stone that lurked somewhere above.
When the weather cleared we could see the gunmetal jawline of the Tatoosh range rising beyond these pines, stained white in the shadows with the first snows of an approaching fall. For all their splendor, I preferred the background of a thick fog for these photographs, and the greens were all the more vibrant for the wet weather.