my dream

My dream is to walk around the world. A smallish backpack, all essentials neatly in place. A camera. A notebook. A traveling paint set. A hat. Good shoes. A nice pleated (green?) skirt for the occasional seaside hotel afternoon dance.

― Maira Kalman, The Principles of Uncertainty 

Fire Fall I think I love you

photo by Aaron Meyers

I watched an old movie on TCM the other night, and wondered about the fire tumbling over a waterfall in Yosemite.  I'd never seen anything like it.  It looked as if gasoline had been dumped over the falls and lit.  What I didn't realize, is that two weeks out of every year, Horsetail Fall in Yosemite National Park, California, lights up by sunset and turns into a wild thing: "Fire Fall".  On these rare few days, the waterfall catches the setting sun at a certain angle, reflecting bright gold and orange, resembling hot molten lava.  This brief window of light happens every year around the third week in February.

My daughter gave me a lovely book for Christmas, Yosemite, Art of an American Icon, a wonderful collection of photos and essays on Yosemite National Park.  Voices are calling me west.  I feel a long road trip coming on.  If you see an old green Land Rover heading west on I-70 going about 90 mph, it's me.

the woods are lovely, dark and deep

Okay, back up to last Tuesday, the 22nd. Remember that load of snow that landed on the east coast? Well, one of my little ships was stranded in an airport, with no flights out until Christmas Eve. So, the resourceful little ship boarded a train and headed west. We, in turn, hopped in our trusty dark green Land Rover and headed east. It was a beautiful wintry road trip.

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there's some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost