Reflections on our first encounter in Yellowstone National Park, written on a bitter cold night in Ohio more than 15 years later.
Recalling a magical day in Yellowstone National Park that changed our lives and sent us on a journey that we are still traveling forty years later.
Rivers run to seas, and at times reverse course as the tidal pull of the moon pushes the sea back upstream.
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.
The Rio Grande divides two lands, two tongues, two ways of seeing and believing. It occupies a borderland where the living, the dead, and the river’s watery sustenance follow a winding course to distant seas.
Along the wild washes raging virginlike through narrows, past steep walls dripping with centuries of moisture, cutting relentlessly toward arid plains, the currents of this river uncover millennia of remembrance. Once embedded in ancient seas, once boulders fallen from ridges pushing upward, once immovable masses blocking gravity’s watery inclinations, the stones bordering the river’s path […]