It is late September, and thousands of Aspen leaves clap their tiny hands across a valley of gold. I have been here before, many times, watching, listening. I forgot how much I love it. Above my head a red tail hawk pierces the deep blue sky. I have always wondered why in the fall the sky seems deeper and bluer.
Trees splatter with shades of Indian yellows and greens. I follow the rocky dirt path down into the aspen forest. The smell of wet rock leaves and rushing water fill my nostrils. I balance my way across the stream on large rocks and fallen logs. Three trails spread before me. I take the middle path that leads to a soft sunlit meadow of green and straw grasses and make my way to a large flat rock in the center of the field. There are angels here, I can feel them, they keep talking to me. Out on the edge of the field are these huge white aspen pillars. I feel I am in a sacred place with great white pillars and a gold leaf ceiling. The pillars watch me with their deep dark eyes. I sit cross-legged on the rock and gaze back at them. The sun warms my face and head. I close my eyes. I am drawn inward as silence swallows me. The thoughts in my head dissolve. I am the brilliance of an immaculate sun.
These are such inspiring pieces. Thank you for sharing your beautiful artwork and writing. It gives me an experience of being in the places in nature that you write about and also gives me the experience of the emotions you write about. Wonderful writing. Inspiring artwork. Very gifted.