I think of you.
Sometimes.
In the way that one might think of the summer sunshine
On a winter night…”
― Sreesha Divakaran, Those Imperfect Strokes
“Textures of Winter”
Wyoming
Textures of Winter
Namooste
the sacred in me recognizes the sacred in you
“Namooste”
Wyoming
gros ventre
“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
― Pablo Picasso
“gros ventre”
Wyoming
The Gros Ventre Tribe originated in Canada and migrated south into Montana. Some continued on south to Wyoming. Their name is pronounced “grow-vahnt “ which may mean “big belly.” We aren’t sure why the French called them this.
All of this being said, my photo has nothing to do with the Tribe, but shows an area along the Gros Ventre River in Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park which bears their name. I’ve always thought, looking out over these hills and trees under fresh snow, that the scene looked like a painting.
Still I Rise
“You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.”
― Maya Angelou (Still I Rise)
Mount Moran
Wyoming
Yes, Share it!
Moose Wrestling
Practice sparring from next year between two young bull moose.
What sparks your joy?
Don’t ever lose touch with whatever it is that sparks your joy, no matter what. This moose is mine, yours could be very different, but go there as often as you can. Do it for yourself. Do it for me. Do it for everyone you know and meet because the last thing the world needs is another bitter, faithless, cynic. A joy-FULL heart can spread just as easily, so let’s work together on this. Okay?
Bull Moose
Wyoming
I am still whole
Sometimes we come together, sometimes we go our own ways. The secret is in realizing our wholeness in the unique journeys of both!
Bull Moose (mooses? meese??)
Wyoming
Find More Here
“Wherever we go in the mountains, or indeed in any of God’s wild fields, we find more than we seek.”― John Muir
Willow Flats
Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming
Eye Fingers
I love the textures of fall. It’s like giving fingers to my eyes, and in scenes like this I feel every change in color. This shot was taken a good hour after sunset, handheld, high ISO – which adds light and softness to the focus. We had just seen a grizzly bear enter the willows to the right, off frame, and were hoping he would pop out the back side here along the Snake River. The bear never did reappear in the ally but the photo became one of my most favorite shots of the trip.
Grand Teton National Park
Moran, Wyoming
My Yawp
“I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.”
~Walt Whitman
Find yours and let it out!
