Pushing Back

 

Cliff Castle, Mesa Verde National Park

There are two kinds of fear, the kind we should move away from and the kind we should explore.  My first ever writing workshop was clearly the latter.  I’ve admired Craig Childs’ writing for some time; I’ll read about anything he writes.  So, I had a deep inhale and signed up. 

Cliff Castle, Mesa Verde National Park

I just got back from the three days in and near Mesa Verde National Park.  It was a great learning experience.  Really, I’m a beginner at creative writing. It’s easy to crush a beginner, but Craig managed to give me lots of good feedback which left me excited to write more.

 

We were a lovely group, a safe place for each other.  I laughed when I looked around and saw most of the women wore no makeup.  My tribe.

 

The plan is to intersperse some themes and ideas from the weekend with my responses to the writing prompts (italicized.)

 

Almost 40 years ago I was here at Mesa Verde.  I remember nothing, so I started again.  Braced against the cold wind at 8500 feet elevation, I’m listening to Craig’s voice, paradoxically resonant in the open air, and multiplied by the landforms he points out.  This he does clockwise, like walking with the Buddha, he says.  These are place names familiar from Tony Hillerman Novels of the Four Corners and the Big Rez; Shiprock, Chuskas, Lukachukais, Sleeping Ute.  Legends and stone.

 

Mesa Verde National Park, Ca 1990. That's me on the left.

On that first trip we were allowed to touch and crawl through some of the cliff dwellings.  Here I am with some friends doing just that in 1990. 

Each morning Craig greeted the dawn as the morning sun hit Mesa Verde.  We had a great view from our rental across the valley. He’d play his Shakuhachi flute as we gathered around, hushed. He said later that ceremony was currency to the Ancient Puebloans, and that it remains so. On the first morning, I had no words to describe the magic, and worried that this was an inauspicious way for a beginner to start a writing workshop.

 Raven wings slice through the air and stir the scent of pinon. Music ascends and embraces us. I’m searching for points of connection with the ancient inhabitants of this place.  Slickrock. Heartbreaking blue skies.  Evidence of the universals of human life and hunger. Granaries. Kiva benches. Rock art. Connection.

 Connection.  Archeology sites have always felt distant and abstract to me.  Craig knows a lot about the subject and has a way of helping us find a more personal connection with the people who built these structures.  I consider the metaphor of aspen trees, connected to each other underground. One writing prompt asked us to tell a story about finding something ancient. 

Camped at Triple Alcoves, I pry myself out of a hammock strung between junipers and walk toward the rim of Marble Canyon.   Limestone chips crunch under my boots and the scent of cliff rose arrives on the breeze. I’m distracted by a lone Indian paintbrush bloom, and then again while squatting to photograph it. I see, or maybe sense, a triangle of black and white pottery, tucked under a downed piñon trunk. It could nestle easily in my palm.  I’m stunned by a sense of connection with the woman (because surely, it was a woman) who had made, used, and eventually cursed when she dropped and broke the pot.  Did she carry water in it? Store corn? Did it ride repeatedly on her head? I feel an intense desire to pocket the treasure. Why don’t I? Perhaps because I’m a rules girl, or maybe I’ve mollified myself sufficiently by taking photographs. I replace the gem, pay respects to my 13th century soulmate, and move on.  I know they will both be there when I return. 

Procession Panel, Open Source Image

Craig talks about the ancient, instinctive human need to gather in circles, as we’re doing in modern-day Mancos Colorado. He mentions ancient rock art known as procession panels, which show people carrying burdens, coming from all directions.

Coconino National Forest, AZ.  Mushrooms!

I think quite a bit about the beginner’s mind; the child’s mind.  Craig talks about animism in these ancient cultures.  I’m thinking of the way I sometimes talk to trees, wildflowers, and mushrooms. I can get very enthusiastic about mushrooms. We all did this kind of thing as kids, yes?

Craig made a particularly poignant point about writing, that its creating something from nothing. He says that it pushes back against destruction. That’s a thought worth pondering.

I did this trip in the van (driveway camping in Mancos) and had a few stops before and after.

Coconino National Forest, AZ

The bigtooth maples were turning red in Mogollon Rim Country on the way up. 

San Juan National Forest, CO

With the better part of a day to kill before the workshop started, I explored parts of the San Juan Forest and had conversations with some aspens.

From Moran Point, Grand Canyon National Park

After a harrowing drive in high wind (an RV was blown off the road an on its side) I happily pulled into a “thank god” camp and Grand Canyon’s South Rim. Storm light there was an unexpected bonus.

There’s more on the website in the Autumn 2026 Gallery.

Portugal

 

Nazare and the Atlantic

There were lots of firsts on this European marathon.  I thought quite a bit about how to present them and decided to keep it simple and stick with the photogenic highlights.

 

The Viking Gyda on the Douro River

This was our first cruise.  Opting for a peaceful experience, we chose the 105-passenger Viking Gyda on Portugal’s Douro River. We loved the food and easy access to several destinations, and we made some new friends.  This last accomplishment is remarkable because we’re increasingly antisocial as we age. 

 

Open bridge with the captain

I reverted to 10-year-old mode when Captain Alves let me honk the horn from the bridge.  Sometimes it’s the little things.

 

Another ship exits a lock as we wait out turn

I was surprised at how much I enjoyed traversing the five locks on the Douro.  The trip was out-and-back from Porto, so we experienced each one twice.  I hadn’t understood much about how they work, and so I loved experiencing them from various ship decks and from our cabin.  I’ve written more about that here, in case you’re interested.  Alves told us that his grandfather was also a captain on the Douro, and he showed us some harrowing footage of sailing the river when it still had rapids, before the dams and locks went in in the 1960s. This video is similar.

 

Porto at night from Gaia, across the river

This trip was also an experiment in another way.  Toward the goal of not checking bags, I committed to shooting only with my iPhone 17, a tabletop tripod, and a circular polarizing filter.  I certainly appreciated traveling light.  Mostly it worked out well, but the phone is still a camera with a very small sensor, and there were a few technical issues that made me miss the big girl camera.  If you’re interested in this geeky stuff, I’d be happy to talk with you about it.  We’ll just spare my more normal readers those drawn-out details.  The image above is an example of the usefulness of the tiny tripod, shooting city scenes at night.

 

Riverside villa and vineyards

The Douro region is all about wine and olives.  Terrain is steep, and the photogenic terraces date back many hundreds of years. I loved shooting these images from our cabin veranda with a white port and tonic cocktail in my other hand.

 

Looking down at Lamego from the Sanctuary

Lamego was my favorite of the day trips from the ship.  The Santuário de Nossa Senhora dos Remédios is striking, connected to the town below by over 600 steps, which pilgrims traditionally climb on their knees.  We walked down, on our feet.  The views were striking, and we also enjoyed a stroll through the Thursday market where, among other things,  live chickens can be purchased.

 

Lello Bookstore, Porto

I very much wanted to go to Lello Bookstore in Porto, where JK Rowling is said to have hatched the idea of moving staircases at Hogwart’s.  The place has become annoyingly popular, requiring timed entry tickets, about 100 every 15 minutes.  Photography was challenging, but it was still a place worth the visit.

After a week living on the ship, we connected with some friends from the UK and covered a remarkable amount of ground in five days.  It helped that he had run a business in Portugal, but we managed to see a few things that were new even to him.  It was a great gift to see some beautiful places relatively off the beaten path.

 

Silhouettes in Braga

Braga was striking and quiet and, in the early morning at least, mostly populated with locals.

 

Tomar.  I did my best to minimize the dredging of the river

Tomar was a favorite.  I had mostly shaken an annoying virus by then and was able to resume my habit while traveling of early morning walks.  I’m sure I make my best images then.

Pegões Aqueduct

There were delightful surprises along the way, including the 17^th century Pegões Aqueduct, built to supply a convent.

 

Tourist gondola in Aveiro

Aveiro is referred to at the Venice of Portugal.  I’m not sure about that, but I did find it quite picturesque.

 

Óbidos

Finally, we stayed just outside the walled Roman city of Óbidos.  Fog was a great photographic gift during my morning walk there.  Like so many places in Europe, my sense of architectural history in the US was dwarfed again.

 

Delicious stairway detail,  Convento de Cristóbal, Tomar

Just like any epic adventure, it left more questions than answers in my mind, and a longer list of things to see.

There are more images in the Portugal 2026 Gallery on the website.

Locks

 

Watching another ship exit before we started our upstream trip

Until the 1960s, Portugal’s Douro River was populated with sizable and treacherous rapids.  Five dams with locks were constructed during that and the next decade.  The locks made the river much more navigable.

Satellite screenshot of a cruise ship in the lock

 I had no idea how exciting the ten trips (the cruise went out and back) through locks would be. 

Thirty Centimeters clearance on each side

Douro River cruise ships are built as large as can fit in the locks.  There’s about a foot of clearance on each side of the ship (especially exciting when viewed from the stateroom veranda), and some traverses require that the sunshade and bridge roof on the top deck be lowered to fit.  

One bridge, at least, required that the crew measure the clearance with a stick.

Sailing into the trash compactor

Giant door behind us beginning to close

Coming upstream, we pull into a chamber reminiscent of the trash compactor scene in Star Wars: A New hope and watch the massive doors close behind us. 

Gravity feeds water and floats us up to the new river level.  The tallest lock had 115 feet elevation change. Once we’d reached the proper level, a door dropped vertically, and off we went.

Just before the bathtub drained on the way down

 

Of course, the procedure was reversed during the downriver part of our journey.

When Life Gives You Mushrooms

High above East Clear Creek, Coconino National Forest, AZ

Our priority was solitude.  I haven’t camped much this season, for lots of reasons, and the three of us wanted to get out for a few days while we could.  Mogollon Rim Country provides the shortest drive to high-altitude camping, a must in summer. 

While there are grand landscapes available there, this part of the Coconino National Forest is also the closest to Metro Phoenix, and it gets crowded, especially on the edge of the rim where the views are.

We chose some quiet spots, enjoyed the cool temperatures and hammock naps, and I shot mostly little things and what’s often called intimate landscapes.  These scenes are smaller than the grand ones.  They offer several advantages, including an opportunity to do more original work. Many photographers have shot those long views, but maybe none has done justice to that one amazing tree.

Graphic Intimate Landscape, Coconino National Forest, AZ

I call the little things “details.”  This year has been a wet one, and everywhere I looked there were mushrooms.  You likely don’t know that I worked in college and during a gap year afterward in a mycology (fungus) lab at UC Santa Barbara.  I’ve always had a soft spot for the little buggers.

This was a good opportunity to get re-acquainted.

One thing we didn’t anticipate was that the long weekend ("amateur weekend" for camping) began on Thursday, apparently.  Thursday was our last night.  Yes, I’m grateful that, as retired people, we can be out there on weekdays.  Some people have no choice but to be out there on Labor Day weekend.  Still, when driving around in circles looking for a quiet spot, I’ll admit to feeling a little annoyed.

Ferns in a burn scar, Coconino National Forest, AZ

This trip was sandwiched between commitments for us, too.  Despite the frustrations, I was grateful to be out.

There’s more on the website, closing out the Summer 2026 Gallery.

Stay tuned for something completely different later this month.

The Summer Day

Watkins Glen NY

I’ve been reflecting recently on how vital time in nature is to me.  Imperative, really.  I’m not sure everyone feels this way, but for me it’s not negotiable. Too much sitting still indoors and I go progressively nuts.

Kirkland, AZ

Around the same time, in one of those magical instances of synchronicity, I watched the new documentary on the poet Mary Oliver.  It's called Saved by the Beauty of the World. Synchronicity indeed.  She wrote on this topic a lot, and here’s my favorite:

The Summer Day ~ Mary Oliver

Who made the world? 
Who made the swan, and the black bear? 
Who made the grasshopper? 
This grasshopper, I mean— 
the one who has flung herself out of the grass, 
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, 
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down— 
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. 
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. 
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. 
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is. 
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down 
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, 
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, 
which is what I have been doing all day. 
Tell me, what else should I have done? 
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? 
Tell me, what is it you plan to do 
with your one wild and precious life?

Kaibab National Forest, AZ

There are a number of scientific studies which reveal  many aspects of the healing power of nature, including

o   Boosted immune function

o   Improved blood pressure, heart rate, and cholesterol

o   Respiratory benefits of cleaner air

o   Stress reduction and mood improvement

o   Improvement in attention and focus

o   Improved sleep from strengthened circadian rhythms

o   Indirect benefits from more physical activity

So, yes, we all benefit and feel better.

Mojave National Preserve, CA

The Japanese introduced the related concept of Shinrin Yoku, loosely translated a Forest Bathing. It encourages walking in nature while engaging all the senses, though I suspect that forest bathers rarely use the sense of taste. You never know. There’s an added emphasis on mindfulness as well.

Coconino National Forest, AZ

I often do this on what I call Photo walks with a camera, which for me at least creates a more mindful state. Wherever I’ve camped for the night, I get connected this way.

Gold Butte National Monument, NV

I hope I’ve inspired you to get out there, and if not perhaps the images have some benefit. They're favorites, pulled from the archives

Morning Walk (or, Paying Attention)

Elegant Frost

A friend reminded me of this one recently, and it has been following me around ever since:

“You can observe a lot just by watching.” ~Yogi Berra

Then, while reading, I stumbled across this gem:

“I was starting to behave as if the present were only a preparation for the future.” ~Barry Lopez

Gypsy the Wonder Dog

I practice a small, informal version of this idea close to home: on my morning walks, I try to stay open to whatever scenes might be waiting for me. I have an energetic dog, so we cover a lot of ground, EVERY day. By now, I think she understands my stops to take photographs as equivalent to her stops to sniff. We are both gathering information; I’m simply more visual about it.

Winter frosting

That practice changes an ordinary walk. A slant of morning light, a shadow on a wall, the geometry of branches, or a scrap of color at the edge of the road can become the whole event. The photograph may or may not amount to much, but the act of seeing already has. It brings me fully into the place where I am.

“Tell me what you pay attention to, and I’ll tell you who you are.” ~José Ortega y Gasset

Backlight

This subject has fascinated me for as long as I can remember focus, mindfulness, attention. I’m always working on noticing what is around me, and still, I’m sure I miss a great deal. That’s part of the appeal. Attention is not a skill we finish learning; it is a lifelong practice in curiosity and humility. I’m urged on—and humbled—by these familiar words:

“If you want to make more interesting pictures, become a more interesting person.” ~Jay Maisel

After the Yarnell Hill Fire. I thought this was beautiful, but one touch and it crumbled

There is a fascinating corollary to all of this. Especially in the age of smartphones, we have developed very little tolerance for boredom. The moment a line moves slowly, a conversation pauses, or we find ourselves with a few unclaimed minutes, we reach for a screen. We fill the empty space before it has a chance to reveal anything.

Stunning Blue

Yet many thinkers on creativity argue that if we stay with tedium a little longer, the mind begins to wander in useful ways. Associations surface. Questions sharpen. What first felt empty becomes spacious. Boredom, approached with attention instead of escape, can be less a dead end than a doorway.

“When you pay attention to boredom, it gets unbelievably interesting.”  ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Sister Rose, a plywood turkey vulture (Yarnell's mascots)

These ideas can feel intimidating to me when I turn them into lofty goals: be mindful, be creative, become more interesting. It helps to make the assignment smaller. I can begin with one thing—the quality of light, an unfamiliar sound, the way my dog pauses at a particular patch of ground.

My favorite Yarnell Tree

“I’m pretty much done with mindfulness.  I’m just going to start paying attention.” ~Gina Barreca

Sego Lily

Maybe that is the real lesson running through all these quotations: attention does not require a grand philosophy or a perfectly disciplined mind. It requires a willingness to pause, look again, and let the present be more than a waiting room for whatever comes next.

“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” ~Mary Oliver

Backyard hummer nest

Thanks for playing along with my musings today. I hope you notice something on your next walk that you might have missed. See you out there.

LOST
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, and you must treat it as a powerful stranger, must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, you are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
-David Wagoner