The ability to transport someone else to a different place is an exceptional gift, I deeply appreciate this gorgeous post as it allows me to step out of myself for a few moments. Well done!
It left me thinking, ‘I don’t think the prairies I grew up on looked like this”. But, of course they did! I was too young and self absorbed to pay attention.
Dear Donna, what a lovely note to find upon my return from a few days off-grid. Thank you for such encouragement. And, as for your observation: "But, of course they did! I was too young and self absorbed to pay attention." Alas... aren't we lucky when we get to re-experience a place or thing once our attention spans have grown and we have learned at least a little better to walk within our own skin...
..."..catching the sun’s last rays, trying to match the impossibly beautiful color of all those rhizomatous, Prairie Smoke creatures dotting this landscape, waving their three-flowered arms above them like exultant hippy girls at a Lilith Fair concert in the chill, swirling breezes."
...this story is welcome relief from the confines of a sterile hospital room, albeit remote.
Your use of the landscape surrounding your poetry (or is it the other way around?) wrapped around me like a big hug...the meadowlarks' evening song...pure magic! ❤️
Ahhh, my friend, I'm sorry to be so late in responding here. I was backpacking in the wilds of Oregon when you left this note and failed to properly register it. That this story found you and wrapped its arms around you is a gift, though I am saddened at the thought of you confined within a hospital room. I'm so grateful that you found the 'hippy girls at a Lilith Fair concert...' and sensed my awe in the description. I hope you are feeling better.
Genuinely gorgeous writing and photos, David—just so lovely and layered and bountiful. I imagine that “Prairie Smoke” in such abundant bloom must have been slightly intoxicating, even hypnotizing in a way—so inviting and calming in its simultaneous bounty and humility—that is what reading your words here and seeing these photos felt like for me. Thank you. 🌾
And there is such a sense of delightful unfolding of beauty upon beauty within your narrative captions, a guiding lens, your lens, that offer the reader (this one especially) such a feeling of presence and appreciation for all that surrounds us and ultimately, all that is within us—a deep and genuine awe and joyful delight for what is alive, and simply for what is.✨🤩🌾
“Pull back just a bit and raise the camera a bit higher above the grasses. Now you can see the remnants of the storm stacked up along the eastern horizon, catching the sun’s last rays, trying to match the impossibly beautiful color of all those rhizomatous, Prairie Smoke creatures dotting this landscape, waving their three-flowered arms above them like exultant hippy girls at a Lilith Fair concert in the chill, swirling breezes.“
You ask, “What must be included to give an essential glimpse, a palpable sense of this prairie wonderland on this one, early June day?” My answer, “Your soul. And every phrase, reframing of your lens, glimmer of light, and exhale of wonder brought me right there and I am renewed because of your generosity.”
Loyalty brings us to the stories by the storytellers we love. We can’t find all the good stories, so we hold on to the ones we have found that repeatedly give us joy. Thank you, dear storyteller.
I have looked and looked and listened and listened...
In reverence the wildflowers, the wide open, endless sky... pastel Prarie Smoke blooming everywhere is a layer of delicate joy to see---I love the way you show us the more intimate views---and Oh! this whole story you are telling is intimate, and grand at the same time! Because your words and photo-glympses hold so many poems, I know how connected you felt there, standing-gazing, kneeling-gazing, then wandering on. Like a feeling of forever, it seemed, as I read on.
I know, I know, I know what happens to an open heart when in the presence of wild bloomings (oh ty ty for the meadowlarks!) color-layered hills and vast wide open, wind-gusted skies...
And now I know better than before...
This is so magical, my friend---like a special treasure, full of poems I will return to again and again.
I know few more careful readers than you, Toni. Your ability to see between the slats, to hear the subtlest inferences and follow the thread as it weaves in and out. What a gift you are. And how grateful I am that you made the journey with me, this way. Thank you.
The few glimpses I’ve seen of the pots you’re working on now for your show, upcoming… I’m wondering if there might be a way to put a reserve on one, if they will be for sale. I have a sense that they will have, each of them some of this energetic spirit that I encounter with each of your thoughtful notes.
Thanks, my friend! Yes, yes I will have a little brochure of my show pots to give you, and yes, you'll have that option.
My show will be "HYPAETHRAL: Open to the Sky"...
Hypaethral is a word of Greek-origin, describing an archetectural style where there is a central space, perhaps a court, designed purposely without roof, wide open to the sky... Earth as archetecture under open sky; courtyards, tree-temples, sanctuary for emotion... pots reflecting paintings... and always, a sense of place...
Thank you sonmuch, David, for including that wonderful sound clip. That and the photos were exactly what I needed to ground me this evening after a hectic week of travel. Also, thank you for the generous photos of prairie smoke flowers!
We discovered them in one of our national parks one fall and I was mesmerized by their fragile beauty!
“…slowing down my shutter as far as I dared so that my pictures might record its tango with the land, that fluid movement and the ruddy blur of color and light within a field of green.”
The land speaks to you. All of it, always speaking to you David. It is how you absorb the story. The wind whispers to the prairie flora , they oblige in a mass of movement, a ‘murmuration’ if you will. Passing the words to your ears. The birth of the story. It becomes yours to tell, however you deem fit.
“So the secret to telling a good story grows out of love…”
I am always truly happy for you when you are given the opportunity to explore places unknown. I think we all feel your thrill. The gift of connection, to the bard. So grateful that you humbly share .
"To see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wildflower"...so the song goes. Thank you for opening your lens to this wild beauty and expanding my vision to this sacred world.
The ability to transport someone else to a different place is an exceptional gift, I deeply appreciate this gorgeous post as it allows me to step out of myself for a few moments. Well done!
It left me thinking, ‘I don’t think the prairies I grew up on looked like this”. But, of course they did! I was too young and self absorbed to pay attention.
Dear Donna, what a lovely note to find upon my return from a few days off-grid. Thank you for such encouragement. And, as for your observation: "But, of course they did! I was too young and self absorbed to pay attention." Alas... aren't we lucky when we get to re-experience a place or thing once our attention spans have grown and we have learned at least a little better to walk within our own skin...
..."..catching the sun’s last rays, trying to match the impossibly beautiful color of all those rhizomatous, Prairie Smoke creatures dotting this landscape, waving their three-flowered arms above them like exultant hippy girls at a Lilith Fair concert in the chill, swirling breezes."
...this story is welcome relief from the confines of a sterile hospital room, albeit remote.
Your use of the landscape surrounding your poetry (or is it the other way around?) wrapped around me like a big hug...the meadowlarks' evening song...pure magic! ❤️
Ahhh, my friend, I'm sorry to be so late in responding here. I was backpacking in the wilds of Oregon when you left this note and failed to properly register it. That this story found you and wrapped its arms around you is a gift, though I am saddened at the thought of you confined within a hospital room. I'm so grateful that you found the 'hippy girls at a Lilith Fair concert...' and sensed my awe in the description. I hope you are feeling better.
"We must prepare our own hearts to be torn by their sadness, healed by their wonder."
David I think you've captured so well the ability of creation to heal us in a way.
Genuinely gorgeous writing and photos, David—just so lovely and layered and bountiful. I imagine that “Prairie Smoke” in such abundant bloom must have been slightly intoxicating, even hypnotizing in a way—so inviting and calming in its simultaneous bounty and humility—that is what reading your words here and seeing these photos felt like for me. Thank you. 🌾
And there is such a sense of delightful unfolding of beauty upon beauty within your narrative captions, a guiding lens, your lens, that offer the reader (this one especially) such a feeling of presence and appreciation for all that surrounds us and ultimately, all that is within us—a deep and genuine awe and joyful delight for what is alive, and simply for what is.✨🤩🌾
“Pull back just a bit and raise the camera a bit higher above the grasses. Now you can see the remnants of the storm stacked up along the eastern horizon, catching the sun’s last rays, trying to match the impossibly beautiful color of all those rhizomatous, Prairie Smoke creatures dotting this landscape, waving their three-flowered arms above them like exultant hippy girls at a Lilith Fair concert in the chill, swirling breezes.“
You ask, “What must be included to give an essential glimpse, a palpable sense of this prairie wonderland on this one, early June day?” My answer, “Your soul. And every phrase, reframing of your lens, glimmer of light, and exhale of wonder brought me right there and I am renewed because of your generosity.”
This is me fumbling about trying to find a response worthy of your kind note, my friend. Humbled and grateful. Once again.
Substack needs to invent real-time hugs for proper responses.
It would transform the internet... 🥰🙏
Loyalty brings us to the stories by the storytellers we love. We can’t find all the good stories, so we hold on to the ones we have found that repeatedly give us joy. Thank you, dear storyteller.
Namasté, dear Pamela. And thank you.
I have looked and looked and listened and listened...
In reverence the wildflowers, the wide open, endless sky... pastel Prarie Smoke blooming everywhere is a layer of delicate joy to see---I love the way you show us the more intimate views---and Oh! this whole story you are telling is intimate, and grand at the same time! Because your words and photo-glympses hold so many poems, I know how connected you felt there, standing-gazing, kneeling-gazing, then wandering on. Like a feeling of forever, it seemed, as I read on.
I know, I know, I know what happens to an open heart when in the presence of wild bloomings (oh ty ty for the meadowlarks!) color-layered hills and vast wide open, wind-gusted skies...
And now I know better than before...
This is so magical, my friend---like a special treasure, full of poems I will return to again and again.
I know few more careful readers than you, Toni. Your ability to see between the slats, to hear the subtlest inferences and follow the thread as it weaves in and out. What a gift you are. And how grateful I am that you made the journey with me, this way. Thank you.
The few glimpses I’ve seen of the pots you’re working on now for your show, upcoming… I’m wondering if there might be a way to put a reserve on one, if they will be for sale. I have a sense that they will have, each of them some of this energetic spirit that I encounter with each of your thoughtful notes.
So glad this one spoke to you…
Thanks, my friend! Yes, yes I will have a little brochure of my show pots to give you, and yes, you'll have that option.
My show will be "HYPAETHRAL: Open to the Sky"...
Hypaethral is a word of Greek-origin, describing an archetectural style where there is a central space, perhaps a court, designed purposely without roof, wide open to the sky... Earth as archetecture under open sky; courtyards, tree-temples, sanctuary for emotion... pots reflecting paintings... and always, a sense of place...
Imagine me smiling.😊
You’ve taken us on a spectacular journey here. Thank you!
Thank you, Kaitlyn.
You are such a storyteller with your photos. It’s as though I can feel the breeze through the screen. And my blood pressure goes down.
Thank you for taking us with you. I didn’t even know I needed that time on the prairie.
Dear Allison, of course you’re welcome. And now it is my turn to thank you… for making time to offer such kindness in reply.
“It’s as though I can feel the breeze through the screen. And my blood pressure goes down.”
This is where my blood pressure goes down, too. Knowing that someone got it at that blood pressure level. A gift. Thank you.
Your photographs, and words, make me want to do cartwheels ❤️
Try to imagine how wide my smile. Now, double it.
I’m most grateful for you, my friend.
Wow!! Thank you
You are most welcome, Queen. Thank you.
Thank you sonmuch, David, for including that wonderful sound clip. That and the photos were exactly what I needed to ground me this evening after a hectic week of travel. Also, thank you for the generous photos of prairie smoke flowers!
We discovered them in one of our national parks one fall and I was mesmerized by their fragile beauty!
Jady, you’re welcome, of course. And you should know that this grateful smile on my face just know belongs to you, your kindness. Thank you.
“…slowing down my shutter as far as I dared so that my pictures might record its tango with the land, that fluid movement and the ruddy blur of color and light within a field of green.”
The land speaks to you. All of it, always speaking to you David. It is how you absorb the story. The wind whispers to the prairie flora , they oblige in a mass of movement, a ‘murmuration’ if you will. Passing the words to your ears. The birth of the story. It becomes yours to tell, however you deem fit.
“So the secret to telling a good story grows out of love…”
I am always truly happy for you when you are given the opportunity to explore places unknown. I think we all feel your thrill. The gift of connection, to the bard. So grateful that you humbly share .
Stunning.
I’ve read your words three times now, Lor and am deeply touched by the kindness that penned them. Thank you.
"To see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wildflower"...so the song goes. Thank you for opening your lens to this wild beauty and expanding my vision to this sacred world.
Such an exquisite and generous note. Thank you, Kate.
Your words and photos, Awesome!
Your note, a gift. Thank you.
So enchanting and beautiful! Thank you for capturing and sharing these one of a time vistas...
You are most welcome, Frank.
Thank you for the encouraging words.