Nature’s Heartbeat

All Nature's wildness tells the same story: the shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes, geysers, roaring, thundering waves and floods, the silent uprush of sap in plants, storms of every sort, each and all, are the orderly, beauty-making love-beats of Nature's heart.

John Muir

The Abyss Pool at Yellowstone - deep, dark and steamy

Mother Nature

She is spitting fire,

boiling clay and mud-

she is bleeding metal

too hot to touch-

she is carving

deep lines

in pillars of stone,

crumbling mountains of rock

in her little green fingers.

Her blazing temper

creates cathedrals in the sky,

then her windy rage

and stormy tears

knock them down again.

She is not steady

she is not safe,

she is a miracle

of volatility.

I feel her forces

at work on me.

I am not stronger

Than granite-

And lines can be carved

So easily

In this soft flesh.

But without her,

I wouldn’t be at all.

So when her storms relent -

and she is calm,

her blue skies shining,

her voice gently whispering

through the trees,

I try to trust the design -

and breathe.

Black Pool mineral run-off, steam rising and beautiful pine backdrop.

Black pool from above - changes over time have made it much lighter

The Fishing Cone Geyser - it is still hot, (172 degrees Fahrenheit) but no longer erupts.

Blue Funnel Spring has collapsed inward and almost dried up. When you walk past it; there is an illusion that its center moves.

Mimulus pools - the colors of the pools and the grasses blended so beautifully. After Yellowstone, I drove all day to the east side of Wyoming. If you want to know more about the geysers and springs in this area (West Thumb) of Yellowstone, click here.

The next day, I was so close to the Devil’s Tower National Monument, that I decided to hike there before driving to Custer State Park in South Dakota.

At the base of the trail to Devil’s Tower, there is a sculpture of a smoke ring - The idea to frame the tower inside the ring is not an original one of mine (there is actually a picture like this at the park), but I couldn’t resist doing it too. The sky was so nearly perfect.

Prarie dogs were popping up all over from their little network of holes and tunnels at the bottom of the hill leading up to the trail

One of my favorite views of the tower. Some native American tribes believe it is the base of an ancient tree - you can see why in this picture.

Climbers scaling their way to the top while I was hiking around the base of the tower.

You can see them here again - it gives you a little perspective on how tall this natural formation is… and how adventurous some people are!

At the end of the hike, returning back to where I started - I couldn’t resist another picture of a prairie dog. They were cheerful company.

The Cathedral Spires at Custer State Park - Castles in the Air. Granite, carved by time, water, and wind.

A precarious looking balancing act of stone on stone, a natural cairn

Skies were darkening while I made my way back down the trail - I got caught in a thunderstorm running back to my van.

After the storm ended, I stopped to walk around the calm water of Legion Lake.

This was an unusual road trip experience for me. When I started out, I had no firm plans. Somehow, things came together and I found some places that I was really sad to leave. I got caught in a couple of storms; one while i was camped, the other while i was still hiking - reminding me that mother nature is in control. I guess that, and the nature of the places I visited, which were all dramatic examples of the power of natural forces, inspired my writing this week.

Thank you for your time and attention. I really appreciate you being here. See you next week!

Rambling from Azle to Marfa, Texas

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

A. A. Milne

As excited as I was to see west Texas, it was hard to leave my mom’s house in Azle. There are so many people I love here, and so many memories.

The neighbor’s horse, eating grass and looking how I felt.

San Angelo State Park. Texas trees twisting in twilight.

First morning of my trip, I am at the beginning of the desert.

Prickly Pear Mickey Mouse. As I do with clouds, I look for creatures in the cactus.

San Angelo State Park. A remnant left behind when the reservoir waters receded.

Today I move on to Marfa.

Marfa, Texas. Questions.

Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort, and letting it be there until some light returns.

Anne Lamott

Marfa unsettles me. So many contradictions. So much beauty, so much poverty. There is something writhing under the surface here. After my first full day, I thought about ditching my reservation at the Tumble In and finding a park somewhere.

These metal cylinders, which I was calling the Marfa Stonehenge, were right next to my campsite. I took this picture and then went to bed, deciding I’d figure out what to do in the morning.

Marfa. Sunrise view from my spot at the Tumble In. I walked to town, got some coffee, and thought I’d figure out another plan.

I saw a kiosk outside the post office with a sign about a free watercolor class, starting the next day, at the Chinati Foundation, where everyone told me I should go if I was in Marfa. I figured it was probably full (and secretly almost hoped it was), but I contacted them anyway. Michael, who responded to my message, said there were no openings. Then later - much later - I checked my email messages. Someone cancelled and I was the only person on the waiting list. I decided to do it.

Donald Judd’s Concrete Boxes at the Chinati Foundation.

This was the view I chose to (try to!) paint. K B Jones was our instructor (@kb_jones on Instagram). I learned so much in these two days and got a such an intimate view of some of the artwork at the Chinati Foundation that I’m still in a little bit of disbelief.

A tree I decided to paint on the second day.

Here is what I finished. Something I loved about painting vs photography is that you can just leave out what you don’t want to include. You can do a little of that in photography, by changing your point of view or zooming in closer or editing afterwards, but when you paint - it’s all up to you right from the start. Developing the skill to convey what you feel is probably the work of a lifetime.

This experience made me love Marfa in all its imperfect glory. I realized that everywhere I go, the same conflicts exist. It’s just much clearer in a place where the population is so small and because of that, the economic and cultural conflicts so much more visible.

Marfa Stonehenge at night with the lights of the highway in the background.

My last morning in Marfa before driving into Big Bend. The sky looked like a watercolor better than anything I could ever paint.

Thank you for being here!