Correction
I was brain dead last night. Female elk are called cows.
I have to burbble about sunrise at the Canyon. The topmost rocks become visible first. Then as the eastern sky becomes lighter and lighter the bands of strata start to appear as if geologic time is running backwards. Eventually the sun blazes over the horizon. You can bear to look because its light is filtered through the branches of the wind bent pinons and ponderosa.
There were a number of Brits at the Canyon. One man standing next to me at a lookout lifted his camera, looked through the view finder, then lowered it, and said in a mournful tone “You really can’t capture it with a camera, can you?” I gently agreed with him. This is a place where you have to go back periodically and fix it in your mind’s eye and heart’s memory.
So, I’m off to the barn now.
Melinda
March 31st, 2007 at 9:00 am
You know, it’s interesting to make note of how our standards of beauty have changed over the centuries.
The earliest Europeans to explore this part of the west were all pretty much in accord about what hideous, ugly, godforsaken, blasted places New Mexico and Arizona were. Hell’s doorstep. On the other hand, the explorers raved about the incredible natural beauties and scenic splendors of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, those idyllic lands so like the Garden of Eden.
They were looking at the world with a farmer’s eyes, of course. And in their worldview, the grand canyon was an eyesore.
April 1st, 2007 at 6:52 pm
I can understand that tension in the soul, George. I loved my house in Bernalillo and one of the reasons I loved it was the green pastures and the horses gamboling across the grass.
Now I’m in love with my clifftop house and the spectacular vistas, but the dirt is filled with fist sized rocks and I had to use a pick to prepare the ground for my little Aspen trees.