Some days I’m out there alone (and I mean really alone – miles and miles from another human being) and I’m blown away. I’d like to come up with a more eloquent term, but it’s raw and it’s real and simple as it seems, it feels right. Blown away. By her beauty. Her silent strength. Her still power. Arms of wind that enwrap me as I stand on the breast of her mountain and listen to the last cry of open waters.
Trying to keep up with my imagination. The songs and sounds I want to share. She soars alone with wings silver and delicate as the frost forming on the north facing slope. I remain grounded. I run to catch up with her but am never quite there. Ideas brimming and bubbling. The lid rattles, ready to explode.
And there I am, doing no more than stirring a pot of green chili, tossing out hay to my horses, washing dishes and hanging clothes on the line we strung up stairs beside the bed, for frozen jeans take too long to dry.
As Julian mentioned recently, “In a busy world where true literacy is so rare, many people (I think) prefer to look at pictures…”
I hope then, this will do for now. And even then, there is so much more I wish you could see, wish I could share with you…
4 thoughts on “Bordering wild”
Beautiful Gin!! Thanks.
So happy for you that you are there this year, getting to enjoy and share with us!
Those are lovely pictures! With such scenery no wonder Ansell Adams was happy to stick with black & white. I can just imagine striding (or riding) off into the distance into such views.Or getting up close to look at the ice flows.
Of course in a black & white photo I could tramp westward, drop down the hill and pick up the daily train on the rickety old Rio Grande Western Railroad. Down to Durango then take the San Juan – a narrow gauge express with electrically lit cars including a diner and a sleeper – westward to Antonito. Then Alamosa, Salida, Gunnison, Montrose, Ridgeway…I’d have circumnavigated your mountains almost entirely by the narrow gauge. I wonder how many days that would have taken?
Would you have led an ’empty’ horse down to Telluride or to Ouray to meet me? Or should I have made my way up to Silvertown? How many pack horses would have been needed for the bulky camera equipment of an earlier era?
Yes, you have set off my imagination.
What pioneers we’d have been back then. But you at least amongst us still are a pioneer.
Yes! I’m there… Let’s ride. I’ll bring my big draft horse, Norman, for you, as you seem to have a thing for those gentle giants. Though because of his size, he’s hard to keep in a pack string. Either he’s in the front of the line, and you can’t see the horses behind him. Or he’s in the back, and the others are intimidated having him behind. So perhaps I’ll bring you my lovely mare, Tres, big and sturdy and strong and calm. She knows the mountains, and can find her way… Truly a faithful companion, and calm still she will be as we ride into town for supplies…
How easy to get lost in this reverie…
Wake up, Gin, and back to work…