Backlighting

I went out—just for thirty minutes or so—to put a mile on the legs.  Well.  You know how that goes.  About three miles into it, I was 800 or 1000 feet above the Chev when I noticed this single aspen in the distance glowing in the sun.  I was shooting directly into the glare.  Not a good way to get an image.  But I really like the way this one came out.  You can see my target at center right.  It is pretty blurry.  But.  Even without it.  I like the picture.  And.  As anybody who carries a camera knows:  Good pictures are a matter of luck, of being in the right place at the right time.

North Rim

We've had a warm, sunny autumn, with no freezing weather.  Late last week there was rain in the forecast, but it didn't seem like it would amount to anything.  So, early this week, we went out to the North Rim.  We arrived in a bit of a downpour, but the rain took a break to let us set up the camper and make dinner.  It rained all night, though, and, in the morning, the sun had just a brief opportunity to poke through between the horizon and the storm.  Fortunately, by mid-morning, it had broken up enough to let us have a view.

Sweet Home

Before, to paraphrase Wallace Stegner, the freeway split and ruined this valley, there was the highway.  The old highway, the highway that you took from Salt Lake to Cedar City and St. George (and Mesquite and Vegas).  Highway 91.  Some segments of it still exist, and I used it today.  I stopped just outside Summit and wandered around in the sagebrush for an hour while the breeze blew.  On the way back to the Chev I noticed this little old homestead, dug into a bank beneath a couple of juniper trees (cedar trees to the locals).  It has just about all you could want—though it is currently missing a roof.  It is hard to imagine giving it up for a plastic box in town.

Where Is This Going?

One question you always have to ask is, "Where is this going?"  What will this piece of ground look like in 10 years, or 20, or 100, or 200?  The best way to be certain that you got the correct answer would, of course, be to return to the location in 20 years, or 200.  But, for most of us, that will not be possible.  So, what else can we do?  One thing that I try to do is to look at a different piece of ground nearby that is 20 years ahead of where I am standing.  In other words, this place where I am standing is going to look—in 20 years—like that place over there does today.  As an example, the picture above is from today; the picture below is from 20 years from now.  What is the answer?  Manzanita.  Which is fine, but human patience is required if forests are desired.

Arikota

I was driving around on the plateau last week.  I was mostly disoriented.  When I entered this little valley (pictured above) it reminded me of South Dakota (pictured below).  Which was really disorienting because when I'd started the drive, I was in Arizona.  Anyway, while Arizona is plainly a long way from South Dakota, there are some strong similarities between the Kaibab and the Black Hills.  They both grow ponderosa pine in great quantities.  And aspen, too.  Their spruces, on the other hand, are different colors—mostly blue on the Kaibab and white in the Hills.