Dead trees speak of times past and always seem to be trying to direct me to something unseen. A tangle of old dry roots ripped from the ground and dried in the sun and wind reflect the struggle they once took on to hold a truck up high into the sky
Old stumps take on the look of old magical creatures, frozen in time, or at least held in place until they are weathered away.
Water leaves its story in the rock. slowly carving away taking hundreds of years to get it all down. Then in another hundred or so totally rewriting or painting or carving it away into another chapter.
All these lines and textures are from my summer vacation to Colorado and Utah, August 2016
Jeff Taking it in.
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