when I was in elementary school in Colorado, I was introduced to the idea of a state flower. ours is the Columbine, I was told. being an Army brat, I had never “owned” something from a place I lived. never had something to identify with. and now here, on one spring day, I was given a flower as my own, as a way to know myself.
grass top to the shelter. good karma.
the taste of the air shifted.
a hard wake-up during The Road Years.
I’m shifting now from the desert to a similar landscape … the ocean. Here, I’m discovering the huge horizontal spaces both ‘scapes offer. There is a magnificent ever-changing pattern of sky, wave, surf, sand. And light. The various shapes take on obvious to subtle messaging, each unique. So, I’m thinking I’ll concentrate on this for a while as I consider my work.
and suddenly it becomes clear why they call this the Painted Desert.
millions of years and things just fall into place naturally. if only we had the time to be so patient.
the road down there leads to another road. don’t need much more in life.
heading toward the actual painted desert just up the road.
the Painted Desert sort of shares space with the Petrified Forest to the south, with its broken trees scattered around.
I’m taking some time for a while, reflecting on some earlier works. Thanks for visiting.
it is said that a hurricane’s winds can drive a straw into a telephone pole. it’s been a weird winter here in the Pacific Northwest.
hey, Jim. where’d you go?