“Embrace the layers of life…the magnificent colors, the darker shadows, the unfolding mysteries, the seemingly misplaced intrusions, the unique textures of myriad experiences. All things come together in the good that is you…”
These unremarkable little draws on the prairie are wildlife havens, and for some reason a “draw” on my own soul to explore. I could walk a dry creek bed for miles in search of treasures – perhaps an arrowhead, a colorful stone or an antique bottle cap – remnants of eons past, crossing paths with the ancients, a thin place to another dimension. I feel the shift in my own reality. It feels familiar, like I’ve been here before. Feels like home, and I wonder if these trees remember me.
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight
Mine is the morning
Born of the one light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise ev’ry morning
God’s recreation of the new day
Lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon
Tucked away…let it snow!
Fall is that wonderful feeling you get from under a toasty warm, soft, fluffy comforter…….right before winter crawls in to bed and puts its ice cold toes on you! 😆😂
Sneffels Range from Dallas Divide
“I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.” ~Isaiah
Mount Sneffels, Colorado
Funny story: Two of my goals when photographing wildlife are 1) See them before they see me, 2) Once they see me, they remain comfortable enough to not care that I am there. While recently exploring Lake Pueblo State Park, CO I saw this muley doe approach a lake cove and begin to drink, so I climbed the back side of the bluff next to the cove to be able to view the deer from above. Goal 1 was met perfectly. I was thinking, “I see you and you don’t even know I’m here!” Then when she started to move up the draw, I thought I’d be smart, sneak around to the top of the draw and wait for her. The wind direction was right, she’d never know I was there! I positioned myself very discreetly and waited. And waited. Perhaps she had found a yummy bush and was busy eating. I waited some more. Suddenly, there she is! She is directly below me about 50’ away, staring right at me!! Ha! She had walked up behind a burm of small Aspen trees out of sight. Tables turned!! I bet she was thinking, “I see you and you don’t even know I’m here!” Hahahaha…. I really did “lol” !! Goal #2 was also met because after seeing me she did not run off but continued to mosey and eat her breakfast, and I got several nice shots. It’s such a privilege to share space with those different than us. Sure, we may come from different cultures, but that doesn’t mean we can’t live together in peace.
It was strange being in a light long sleeved shirt all day, no jacket until the sun went down, in the middle of October. No complaints from me, it gave me a chance to attempt a little impromptu birding along the Arkansas River. The birding ended up being mainly hiking. I saw more birds after sunset than I saw all day – Sandhill cranes, mountain bluebirds, and an almost-friendly belted kingfisher (all personal favorites) none of which I got any photos of because it was too dark. The sunset made up for it all. Sometimes the reason you start with is not the purpose you discover. Peace.
The secret to life is knowing where the true gold is…
San Juan Mountains
One year ago Colorado was battling the worst forest fire event in its history when the East Troublesome and Cameron Peak fires merged, consuming 400,000 acres. This is the Long Draw area bordering Rocky Mountain National Park, which was also heavily damaged by the fire. I’ve taken a lot of wildlife photos here – moose, elk, deer – decades of thrilling memories. On this day the area should have been crawling with hunters, fall photographers, fishermen, enthusiasts, but it’s eerily silent. No wildlife, no people, very little water in the reservoir. In the course of the universe, this is a small blip that is good for the land in restoring it from the blight of the beetle, but I probably won’t live to see it. In the course of my lifetime, it’s a massive loss, yet I can learn from the resilience of the forest and know that life will go on. There is still beauty to behold.