Essay
This Land is My Land
A re-post from Notes from North Idaho
Essay
A re-post from Notes from North Idaho
GF500 f5.6
Summer camping on Lake Pend d’Oreille
Swallows
In the Hopi creation myth a swallow was created out of clay by the medicine men as the first messenger or emissary sent from the third world to look above the sky for a better world to live in. The third world, where they lived, had become corrupt because the
Newsletter
Richard Whetherill tends to get the credit for ‘discovering’ in the European settler sense, Mesa Verde. It was of course known by the native Ute Indians in the area who considered the cliff dwellings sacred. There is another person who perhaps should have the title the Wetherills have assumed and
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The best times to travel the West are in the late spring/early summer. Late April to mid-June I would say. Too early and the passes may still hold snow and not be open. Too late and the freshness of spring and the wildflowers will have dried up. Because the
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There can be something bewitching about pictographs or rock art. They exist all over the West. Some are more recent bordering on the historical while others reach back 10,000 years or more. The older ones are the most beguiling, at least to me. They all have this invitation to
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The heart that beats at night is blind It sees not out through open conscious eyes It sees the fragments the mind creates in its dreamings The madness, the fears, the pain, sorrow, joy, and happiness It beats to the sense of flying It flutters at the sensation of falling
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The desert’s silence is a multitude. That is the first thought on returning to the desert this evening from my mountain home. Mollie and I walk through the scattered sage in the high desert of southern Wyoming. The distance and silence seems to envelope every sound and draw it
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Ambition
GF500 f5.6
Some time back I purchased a rather absurd lens; a 500mm f5.6 monster. Obstensively, to add a new angle to my landscape photography. I shoot a lot of intimate landscape and that lends itself to a longer lens. Some time ago asked what focal length one would shoot for
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This reminded me of when I lived in San Diego. We had a pair of sharp shinned hawks in the neighborhood. Their were small dense trees in our backyard the sparrows would congregate in. They would chatter excitedly when the hawks were around. The hawks had this perfect teamwork. The
Rio Grande
We have met our friends and together we setup our respective camps perched on the pinion-juniper-sage desert rim of basalt above the Rio Grande. Here the river runs straight south in a gorge it carved deeply into the basalt plateau. Behind us are the Sangre De Cristo mountains. The days