Bareback Riders

 

 

   

She was not an ordinary Dove

 

 ***Her name is UmberDove

She was a painter. Oh, man that girl could paint!

She was a silversmith. 

She handmade this "Migration" ring I wear around my finger.

This is how she described her creation: 

"As I pierced and hand-sawed every single little hoof print, I felt myself migrating. White-tail deer prints.

 I believe in where you are."

She loved all animals and rivers and birds and trees. 

Owls. 

Feathers. Feathers. Feathers.

And rocks. 

Sun bleached bones, antlers and skulls.

She ran to the mountains. She walked deer trails.

She was star dust (She was Golden).

She was a storyteller. 

She was brave. A real warrior.

And she loved life.

Everyone who ever knew her, loved her.

Everyone who never met her, loved her.

We wrote letters.

I received words of comfort and encouragement and enlightenment from her when my very own brother was battling cancer. He is a professional drummer.

 Everyday, he is trying to beat cancer like a drum.

I still have letters she wrote to me from coffee houses in Santa Cruz. 

I still have letters and postcards she wrote to me when she moved to the Pacific Northwest.

She said, "With every track, striding a bit farther north, into a depth of sun I just now realize I've been missing." 

Just two years ago, we made plans to go find the Wyoming wild horses together. 

It never happened. 

 

***Now I understand. 

 

UmberDove was my friend. 

I say with tremendous sadness, this gentle bird has flown.

And I will miss her. 

 

***Om Tare Tuttare Ture Soha

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Summer So Far

Sometimes the sky is too blue.

~Christie Watson (Tiny Sunbirds, Far Away)

                                                    

And sometimes a door isn't blue enough.

We were hanging out with some friends, listening to a band, talking about camper trailers, gardens and home improvement projects. Two of my girlfriends, who also live in our neighborhood, were commenting on how nice the paint job was coming along on the outside of our house. Chad was almost finished with the final wall.

 "What is the name of the color he's painting on your house?"

I told G, "Mexican Sand. Someday I might be able to talk Chad into painting our front door Turquoise. Wouldn't that look pretty?"

A and G both enthusiastically agreed. 

Then they each asked a few more questions, like: What color Turquoise? Light? Dark? Jade? Aloe? Then A said, "Oh, like the color of your necklace??!!"

"Yes! Exactly!"

A couple of days later, Chad and I went away to Red Feather. When we came back home, guess what?

We had a Turquoise door! 

I will say this, one of us wasn't very pleased. 

But, he's getting used to it. ;)

 

I met this guy up on Green Mountain. While photographing wild horses, he stood close by and hissed at me for fifteen minutes. Pronghorn make an unusual warning sound. A hiss. Or more like a spit.

This bad boy was charging around keeping everybody in line. 

A brown eyed beauty.

And his lovely family.

Forest games.

We pitched our teepee tent not far from this creek. 

There is nothing like sleeping next to the sound of a lulling stream.

Pretty inviting, wouldn't you say?

 

Indian Paintbrush is Wyoming's state flower and this forest is full of them.

That's where the wild horses live, out there.  In the summer the majority of them find refuge in the high country. Up here, in the cool pines. 

But, for some reason, it's been a real challenge trying to find them in their usual meadows this year.

This is part of the problem.

The West is getting fenced off.

 

But, we WERE entertained up on Big Meadow! 

Summer lovin' 

Just south of Cheyenne we bumped into some camels. They seemed comfortable and feeling right at home. 

Despite their strong association with the Middle East and Africa,  camels (along with wild horses) actually originated in North America some 45 million years ago.  Between 3 and 5 million years ago, they crossed the Bering land bridge to Eurasia and eventually migrated south.  ~The History Channel website