Thursday, May 18, 2017

Above the Valley of the Wolves

When I first met him
I could see strength and perseverance
And as is the way of things
We threw him to the wolves
Now seeking their prey in the foothills

And we watched him run with them under the clouds
Roll through the oats and oaks
Footfalls quickly striking the stones of the creekbeds
As the waters cascaded towards the valley

Through this he never faltered
He never slowed his pace
But kept up with the beasts
As they snarled and clacked jaws
Towards the beams of sunlight
Shining bright above the shadows

I even saw him pull ahead at times
Saw him clamber up above me
To the outcrops of rimrock on the ridges
Resting for a bit in the warmth
Until the pack caught up with him

I found it an honor to see him run on the mesa tops
So fast as if his feet never touched the dust and gravel
Watched his wings grow from his back
And carry him away over the canyons
He had known all too well

For Richard
I still see your face smiling, shining in the sun

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Alta Meadow

I finally got around to finishing the video for this overnighter in Sequoia National Park back in August haha. It took me a while to figure out which direction to go with it. In the end, I chose to turn up the dramatic meter quite a bit :) so enjoy!

The dust from harvest I leave behind
And smoke from all surrounding hill
For lofty meadows to clear the mind
And building storms to slightly chill

My journey begins in a woolly wood
Through forests deep in shadow dark
Where stream side clearings long I stood
In glory of each vibrant park

Oh how the mountain air so clean
Is needed now within my chest
And resting here on steep serene
Under this ruck my heaving breast

I make my humble traveler's home
Tucked away with hearth and fire
Where deer are likely apt to roam
With stars to ease and help retire

For in the morn with water clear
I'll look to gain the lands beyond
And make them ever oh so near
Like reflecting back upon a pond

As rock faces rise and water falls
And the path winds round its way
To sights of grand Valhalla's halls
Forever long I'm here to stay

Fair meadow stretching to the sky
To thunder clouds and tufted hair
With granite dust sparkle the eye
And flowers enough to hold one there

Bewilderment the entrancing tune
Of mountain and sky and field and tree
Tranquil as the boulders strewn
At rest at last below the scree

Rains fall as scattered notes
Cooling the face flushed and red
Quenching the lilies among the oats
Who's beauty quiets like words unsaid

Sunday, October 30, 2016

In the Beginning

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth
The earth was formless and empty
And darkness covered the deep waters
And the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters

Then God said "Let there be light"
And there was light
And God saw that the light was good
Then he separated the light from the darkness
God called the light "day" and the darkness "night"

And evening passed and morning came
Marking the first day

Then God said "Let there be a space between the waters
To separate the waters of the heavens from the waters of the earth"
And that is what happened
God made this space to separate the waters of the earth
From the waters of the heavens
God called the space "sky"

And evening passed and morning came
Marking the second day

The God said "Let the waters beneath the sky flow together
Into one place so dry ground may appear"
And that is what happened
God called the dry ground "land" and the waters "seas"
And God saw that it was good

Then God said "Let the land sprout with vegetation
Every sort of seed bearing plant
And trees that grow seed bearing fruit
These seeds will then produce
The kinds of plants and trees from which they came"

And that is what happened
The land produced vegetation
All sorts of seed bearing plants
And trees with seed bearing fruit
Their seeds produced plants and trees of the same kind

And God saw that it was good

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Musical Intermission IV

Bloggin's been slow to say the least. So here's a little musical intermission to break the silence.

Haven't been to a concert in a long time. But a few weeks ago, the wife and I were able to witness the power that is..... Hillsong

Not my video, but this was similar to our view of the show

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Coarsegold Creek

Available in 720 HD

You feel the breeze.
Easy and gentle as a baby's sleeping breath.
The ravages that storms can bring
Don't occur in these parts.
Semi-arid, semi-drought conditions are the norm.

No temperate rainforest for the Sierra's.
Hot, peaceful almost weather to say the least.
With sometimes enough wind to stir the oak leaves and rattle the grasses.
The sound of flags and banners flapping in the wind.
Raised outposts spread upon the southern boundary waters,
Of the mother-lode of the old empires.

As the rains sweep clean the gardens low,
We turn our eyes towards the hills in velvet.
The sound of a thousand bells in the distance.
The fountains welling up in the ephemeral.

Pumping to the heartbeat of the hillsides.
Lifted with the springs as the mountain releases.
Thundering in brooks tumbling over coarse gold.
Reverence brought to the surface.

Sons and daughters racing American Paints
Down evergreen hills christened in succession.
Hoofs shod with rose quartz
To grind the granite and stir the dust.

Generations rushing at our feet
With the power to move mountains.
As if to outrun the words.
Stories of grace and mercy and victory
Following one after another.
Welcoming those who journey West.

Spirit breathes life into these moments.
Floated by the currents and pulled along.
Cooling this furnace fired glaze
That's sealed in hopes and prayers.
Grains showing through the polish.

And as these waters rise,
They gather stones to swirl holes in boulders.
They create light reflecting off the surface,
To shine above the fog settling in the valley.

What is a creek, becomes a river.
Becomes echoes in the wilderness.
Cheers of thanks between deep, deep breaths.
Taking in the cool sweetness of it all.

These seasons turn, and turn once more.
Each time wearing grooves upon the surface.
Making round from what was square.
Bringing peace like a creek born again.

Through glens and dales and hills and streams,
The gardens shake awake from dreams.
To follow down to river bend.
The greens with whitened lace to mend.

For little Dashiell. My brother's boy. Welcome to the world young man.


Button Bush

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

A Spring Day Out With The Emberlit

Only took one pic this time I guess. Just a quick outing on a nice day testing out my new Emberlit stove. Burns through wood hot and fast. Nice little addition to the kit I would say.

Thanks for watching

Available in 720HD

Saturday, January 9, 2016

The Mountain

A great horned owl takes two steps sideways
On his branch chosen for its prominence
Blinks his eyes wide and clacks his beak in anticipation
Cocks his head as he leans forward into the pre dawn light of the waning night

His wings spread clean and react to the gravity of his choosing
He glides above the fresh fallen snow
Where his wings leave angel sized prints as his hunt becomes circumstance

Outcomes of these agendas play out day after day through the ages
Cycles of returnings amended in these forests
Streams meandering through the meadows in slow cessation
Life left to thrive as the mountain looms above

These mountains enter our lives first seen from the high passes
Or rather we enter the mountain's life as companionship is welcomed
And while some fade away worn down to foothills to greet the plains
Some stay as hardened granite baking in the sun

Grizzled and dark
Jagged peaked and talus sloped
And worn smooth in the depths of its valleys

Yet all that the mountain rears to stand tall on its own
It provides the basis for life in this world

Sheltering from the winds blowing across the sea
Gathering snows when the storms roll in
Slowly releasing waters ever on from glaciers hanging in the shadows
Fissuring the stone for springs to pour forth and sustain

Growing grasses for rams in alpine meadows
Stocking forests of cones for the woodchuck to store away until the freeze
Building rivers to tumble the boulders
Slowing pools for reflection in the early morning light

Playing out sands in the widening bends
Covering nuggets for miners to pluck from the stream beds
Mixing soils for roots to sink deeply
Darkening hollows for owls to seek shelter

The mountain is and always was
Still there to cast his cool shadow in the warm summer afternoon
Still there to reflect the last light of the day in burning alpenglow
Ever present as is his way

Remember the mountain
He will see you through

......For Darlene and the girls......

In Memory of Alan Rondi - June 1957 - December 2015 - 

He is a Mountain