Valley homestead, beyond the fence in the San Luis Valley. If you are familiar with my work and my website you’ll recognize this old dwelling. Over the years the fence has also featured prominently in my images. Someone, at some point in time, peeled back the barbed wire in order to get access to the building. Personally, I like to document these abandoned homesteads from pretty much the same perspective for continuity and posterity. Here’s another view. Thanks for looking. G
Stretch gate, Manassa, Colorado. The barbed wire divided the sky into random shapes. This scene is on the highway just outside the hometown of boxer, Jack Dempsey. Jack grew up in a cabin in the town of Manassa. I was down on the ground in the snow covered field, making images of the golden barley stubble when I saw an opportunity to add another image to my rural stretch gate series. Shapes and negative spaces are the main attraction and these gates are infinitely unique. Thanks for looking. G
Sitting on the fence, lots of snow all over Taos County. Took a walk out early this morning as the sun rose over the Sangre de Cristos. I had a thoroughly good time photographing the more abstract elements on the subject of snow. Temperature here at noon today, 18º F. Thanks for looking and stay warm. G
Encounter with a mule deer doe, over the fence in San Cristobal, NM. A poem by Robert Frost comes to mind. It describes an encounter for two lovers, “Two look at Two.” I’ve posted the poem below. This very brief moment lasted an eternity. I studied Robert Frost in college. I was able to recite this poem, and others by the author, on command. This one, although I can no longer recite the whole piece from memory, resides in my very being and remembering the words verbatim seems redundant. My encounter, “One looked at One.” Thanks for looking G
Two Look At Two.
Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness;
When they were halted by a tumbled wall
With barbed-wire binding. They stood facing this,
Spending what onward impulse they still had
In One last look the way they must not go,
On up the failing path, where, if a stone
Or earthslide moved at night, it moved itself;
No footstep moved it. ‘This is all,’ they sighed,
Good-night to woods.’ But not so; there was more.
A doe from round a spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall, as near the wall as they.
She saw them in their field, they her in hers.
The difficulty of seeing what stood still,
Like some up-ended boulder split in two,
Was in her clouded eyes; they saw no fear there.
She seemed to think that two thus they were safe.
Then, as if they were something that, though strange,
She could not trouble her mind with too long,
She sighed and passed unscared along the wall.
‘This, then, is all. What more is there to ask?’
But no, not yet. A snort to bid them wait.
A buck from round the spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall as near the wall as they.
This was an antlered buck of lusty nostril,
Not the same doe come back into her place.
He viewed them quizzically with jerks of head,
As if to ask, ‘Why don’t you make some motion?
Or give some sign of life? Because you can’t.
I doubt if you’re as living as you look.”
Thus till he had them almost feeling dared
To stretch a proffering hand — and a spell-breaking.
Then he too passed unscared along the wall.
Two had seen two, whichever side you spoke from.
‘This must be all.’ It was all. Still they stood,
A great wave from it going over them,
As if the earth in one unlooked-for favour
Had made them certain earth returned their love.
Red-tailed Hawk over the hedgerow. We made a quick drive a few nights ago to the southern edge of the San Luis Valley in Colorado just over the border from New Mexico. A gentle wind moved through the wheat fields stirring the crops. Raptors launched from power poles, as we drew close, gliding along the fence lines and hedgerows. The adult birds were screeching warnings to the fledglings who followed the parents, riding on warm, gentle thermals. We saw a number of fields being mowed as we criss-crossed the road grids in the area. The center pivot irrigator provided a perfect watch tower and launch pad for a number of raptors, crows and ravens eager to snatch an unsuspecting mouse or rabbit stirred up by the massive wheeled harvester. We were back home for a late dinner and a movie right before dark. This day, in it’s own way, was a cinematic experience in itself. Thanks for looking. G
Winter notes on a fence. I’m walking along, looking at nature all around me. It’s the first snow of winter; the forecast says there is more on the way this weekend. It’s not surprising to me that I’m preoccupied with the beauty of it all. As the land rises alongside the trail, the fence line comes into view, the imposition of us humans on the natural environment. It is charming and beautiful in its own way. It reminds me that I am standing between the natural and man made elements; the two are undeniably inseparable, it comes from the same place and thrills me, and as Carl Sagan said, “we are all star stuff!” Thanks for looking. G