oh hey it's only been a year

Back at Art Farm in Nebraska, the most wonderful of places.

The infinite forms of a form.

fooling around

popping glitter filled balloons, taping magnifying glasses to tripods, watching grasshoppers hop. eating cookies.

Art Farm (long happy sigh continued)

This barn has no foundation. It floats on supports.
The studio.






These are nice for sitting.


sunrise, the brightest thing I think I have ever seen.

The studio again.

LIGHT and some rain

oh, this is he badlands by the way, not WY. strange world.









This was a great day. Hiking all the way up one canyon, over the divide and down the other side of the mountain. We were screaming at the top, we swam in freezing holly lake, and found wild huckleberries also.

Yikes.

Lovely cloud shadows. The clouds themselves felt very close, they probably were. we were at about 11,000 feet. and the sun!


Keyhole.


This is the smoke plume that rose for days and days from the fire in the Gros Ventre.

The last poppy left behind the laundry room.


The experience of driving past these mountains is really something. I like looking at them from far away too, and seeing the road on the flat, flat valley beneath, the cars look so so very small, and are often just a glint. Hiking up into them is a whole other story. When the day gets late, they begin to cast their shadow out over the valley, the shadow is cool and dark and slowly sreading, and the light at that time of day, shines through all things, not just on them, and just streams through the canyons. There is a high steep ridge behind the ranch that I would climb, it was always wonderfully windy up there, and one day I realized those beams of light were enormous. The tallest mountain itself is 13,700 some odd feet tall, and the valley below is so wide. One time, I was up on that ridge, seeing a storm move towards me, until I was suddenly in gray light and lots of fine hail, and a single, white puffy seed was floating up into the air, against the cold wet that was hammering down.

Driving from the mountains, to where it is very flat

those rocks, that were holding in the water, from behind

the water that was held in by rocks. maybe I am the only one astounded by this.


down through rolling grassy hills, where you can see the the road unwinding down in front of you. sailing through a prarie, it felt like a dream really, passing in and out of the shadows of clouds, wind, and sun. i felt slower than i was actually moving. the crickets were louder than my music, so they were a constant sound behind everything. and i rounded a bend and all of a sudden there were wild horses.

before the prarie, were the black hills, with their glittering tunnels, and lakes held in by giant, upright boulders. and mount rushmore. a very odd thing indeed.

and at the end of a day, I got to the Badlands, that look like the moon or mars, the earth looks like clay that simply dried there and could at any time be dissolved by rain. it used the be a rainforest, and is littered with the fossils of creatures that no longer exist. I camped there and woke up to the blinding, rising sun and lots of birds, and a rabbit that hopped past and away into the loud grass.