Winter

  

Now more than ever do i realize that i will never be content with a sedentary life, that i will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere. 

—Isabelle Eberhardt

 

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️ Stay warm!

 

   

 

 

Jewels in the Snow

Our kinship with Earth must be maintained; otherwise we will find ourselves trapped in the center of our own paved-over souls with no way out.

— Terry Tempest Williams   

 

All this grace—just a few blocks away.

 

She Was Thankful for Horses

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving Day

The morning after waking up in the yurt, we drove into The Big Empty, the Red Desert of Wyoming, home to the mustangs.

Well, until the majority of them were rounded up just last September. I was there. I saw it. It was NOT pretty.

Damn you BLM 

Fog and roads of gumbo kept us from traveling very far.

We tried. We drove as far as we could, through a gray veil, to find a shadow, an outline. Anything resembling a horse. 

My attention shifted to the land. I know this land.

The rabbit brush had turned a pretty copper color. The sage was always like I want it to be. Still scented musky sweet and lots of it. 

Everything was pale, muted brown, green or gold. The land presented their colors in a way you’d imagine a prairie landscape in winter. There was beauty all around me. So, it didnt matter that there were no horse outlines. I knew they were there.  The horses of the great Red Desert are spectacular. If you want to see a fantastic stallion who has eluded the helicopter for years on end, take a look at an incredible horse who JUST SAID NO to a roundup or any kind of human. 

Heading down to Rock Springs (cough cough) we drove the Pilot Butte wild horse scenic tour range just to say we’ve been there. 

The only place we saw horses were the seven standing right in front of Pilot Butte. What luck! 

After spending an hour with this band, we thanked them for letting us be in their presence, waved goodbye and turned around. 

We stopped at the overview to wave to one of our dearest friends, Nikki, who is from the quaint old-timey hideaway town of Green River. 

By the time we got to Stewart Creek, wild horse heaven, the wind had calmed and the sun came out just enough for comfort, as we sat in the field observing, documenting each family band, taking notes and hundreds of pictures. 

We chose to spend the day looking for horses rather than sitting down to a thanksgiving meal. We were thankful to have the privilege of spending time with these special animals, still wild and free. 

If only a feast for our eyes. 

 

A Yurt on a River in a Canyon

For the Thanksgiving holiday we went away. 

At Sinks Canyon State Park outside Lander, Wyoming there are a handful of yurts to stay in.

Let me tell you, that river roars.

I’m more a babbling brook kind of gal. 

We were in ‘Joe Huto’ country. 

You know, that nice man from the book and companion film, Touching The Wild.

Those are his friends with the big ears. 

Dorky me.

Trying to look happy and not sick from something that I ate the night before.

Let’s just say, “I’ll never do THAT again.”

Around here climbing is a big deal. 

Reading by the roar of the river.

Yurt life!