After a stretch of hazy days, the milk-white sky is blue again. The smoke from the wildfires seems to be dissipating. In Native American healing traditions, some winds carry illness. This morning's Southwest wind feels cleansing. This wind's voice is fierce, but its touch is gentle.
I like to zoom in on the peaks so that I can see the contrasting textures of trees, then the bare expanse of rock above the treeline. Some of that granite is over 1 billion years old. My whole lifetime equals the length of a brief dream in the long, slow sleep of her creation.
Every day I see a new detail, a crevice or a crater that I hadn't noticed before, and my fascination with her deepens.
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