Oregon is known for its four real seasons. Spring’s rush of green, summer’s short and merciless sun, fall’s passive-aggressive decay, and winter’s long, beautiful grip. It wasn’t always like this. Around 35 million years ago this corner of the state was warm and wet, closer to a rainforest than a high desert.
Outside the town of Mitchell, layers of ancient soil from those wet and dry cycles have turned into the Painted Hills. The stripes of red, gold and black shift with the light, and people come from all over the world to see them. They’re beautiful. They’re also a climate record, written one band at a time.
I set this shot up so the stripes follow the slope of the hills. That’s the whole story of the place in one picture. Laid down, worn away, and still going.