Location Taken: British Columbia, Canada
Time Taken: June 2010
You know, every so often, when I’m trawling through my photo collection for one I can talk about, a photo will catch my eye and demand to be posted right then. Usually they are obliging enough to have something I can say about them, but this one, well…
I’m mostly getting feelings and pictures rather than words.
The rare rain pouring down, grabbing stray pieces of dirt and pulling it downward.
The sandy soil raining down from that bare section, pouring down into the stream as its support gets undermined.
A sapling finding just enough water to grow, and reaching as high as it can to the sky.
The grass sleeping in the winter, and burned dry in the summer, but growing as strong as it can at other times, with the energy only those who have waited can claim.
The gentle curving of the stream as it finds a low spot to wind its way through the hills, carving deeper and deeper as the years go by.
The dance of moisture and wind bringing more rain to the distant hills than the close ones, allowing trees in one spot and grass in the other.
The slow, persistent squeezing growing the hills taller and taller as the North American plate pushes westward into the Pacific.
The high thin clouds, resting after bringing their load of ocean water to the mountains, and slowly gathering up energy from the sun to form the grand storms of the plains.
The slow plodding of cattle and deer and elk wandering the thin grass, looking for tasty spikes left behind by all the other creatures that wander these hills.
The whirring of cars passing by on a nearby highway, not noticing all the stories hidden in the hills, save for a few who look and wonder.
