A black-billed magpie crosses the barbed boundaries of a wire fence to defend its winged playfulness in a big sky landscape. Perched upon a wooden post, it scouts its next move. More elegant than its cousin crow, the black-and-white formalwear of the magpie obscures its irreverent posturing above the sagebrush plain. ♨
The sea lion ambled into view as I leaned over the railing of the Balboa Pier in Newport Beach, California. Was she performing for the excited audience on the pier above? Or did we see ballet through our anthropomorphizing gaze? ♨
Photo essay contemplating the alabaster landscape of the Porcelain Basin section of the Norris Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park.
The land is philosopher. It teaches through patient being that knowing is as futile and useless as believing. Things are, circumstances unfold and collapse, and reality persists.
1980 we spent the entire year, all twelve months, on the avocado ranch. It was our magical time in paradise. We were alive then with youth, not quite knowing how happy we were.
Even though it is a national park with complicated and historically shifting meanings, Yellowstone is many other places as well.
The moon had my soul as I stepped through the gate into the schoolyard. I listened hard for the sweaty shouts of teammates running ghost-like on the lined fields of memory. Echoes of their gameful cries disperse to memory. My gaze fixes now on an orange line of thin clouds lingering across the pale sky of coming day. ♨