Sunday, September 29, 2013

the mountain spirit

In the high country there is an ancient voice that hangs on the howling winds. It  winds through the black timber and hides in the sleepy hollows. It  whispers through the rushing torrents and flutters down the secret canyons. This is a place where the work of the ages spills upon you from all directions and the mountain spirits still reign supreme.   

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Sunday, September 1, 2013

a space between

A Space Between
Snaking its way between the crumbling, tumbling Gros Ventre and the sky-chasing Wind Rivers is a ridge of high meadows, whitebark dells, and secret Beaver terraces.