Hot today, again.
As this is written at mid-afternoon, outside temp — depending on who says — is 97 degrees F. or 94 degrees F. Yet my recent cooling system work is holding up.
But by 8pm, things had cooled off a bit for the Walk of Charles.
Nik drops in for a visit, then we all go for a slow late afternoon walk in ninety-degree temps.
Some Utah in general. Probably not the definitive photographic portrait of the state.
Late afternoon EONI drop-in to see Zach and avoid the heat while Kim shops Farmers Market. Dusk walk with The Charlie. Off to visit at 103, returning in darkness and coming upon Eastern’s football action.
I knew it was wrong for me to be in Utah, where I was clearly an outsider — after all, my vehicle was a pure British RHD (right hand drive) model … And I know that some people talk of their horses the way that I may have of my Land Rover.
In the run-up to my 1973-74 assignment to study the White Mountain Apache tribe and reservation, I read — among much else by way of research — Dee Brown’s shocking and controversial book, “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee”. (Read it, if you haven’t already.) Wounded Knee was also the site of a prolonged and violent protest occupation and takeover by AIM (American Indian Movement) Sioux members during my Arizona Apache stint, making big news throughout Native American communities and nationally as well. A film was also made on the subject later on. More
After I hit the road in late 1974, I decided to make a point of seeing the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Although I spent very little time there, expecting to give it more time on my return leg (never happened, unfortunately), I did grab some images of the mostly empty landscape as an adjunct to my sojourn through the Badlands.
This evening’s dog-stroll’s incident started with noticing that the moon was clearly visible overhead. Upon capturing that image, the next was to attempt to relate it to the markings on the field where we were walking. Then the next variation was to try to juxtapose a solitary dandelion in front of me with the moon. Even though it was fairly obvious that I didn’t have the appropriate lens for the task, I nevertheless stretched out on the grass as low as I could go to frame both the dandelion and the moon. Here’s the sequence:
That’s where the trouble began. Kim, who was walking the perimeter of the field almost exactly on the far opposite side from me apparently noticed and came running. Thinking the old guy had collapsed on the spot, I guess. When I arose, defeated by the failed photograph, she had come to within about twenty yards of me, and then could see that my prone position was deliberate.
Anyway, we did continue our walk without further complications. And Kim brought to my attention that the whatever-it-is-flowering bush in front of the kitchen window is suddenly going gangbusters.
Something brought to our attention by Dennis: In Scientific American, “Why Walking through a Doorway Makes You Forget“.
This could explain a lot …
Second only to Death Valley, a favorite photographic venue has to be the Badlands of South Dakota. In the early fall of 1974, during a major Land Rover expedition, I drove across the Badlands (and the nearby Black Hills).
