Flash forward to October 2009 (well, aaaaalmost October). The shutter on my camera hasn't worked properly for the last three years but it, for all intents and purposes, still did it's job. Not trying to be the typical American consumer, I dealt with it's dysfunction in a hippie-esque (totally a word) statement of sorts. Last week, it finally gave out on me. For GOOD.
While I am happy to finally have a reason to bite the bullet and make a fun techie purchase, the timing of my digital demise is terrible!
I JUST MOVED TO COLORADO!! In the last four days, I have been reunited with a very excited and snuggly dog, driven through Rocky Mountain National Park, over Trail Ridge Road (which, by the way, if you've never done it, DO IT!) to Estes Park. Yesterday in Estes, we saw our first snow. Actually, it was a storm that started with fog, moved into lightning with hail and THEN became snow showers. In addition, the elk are in their fall rut and the bulls are bugling, which I have been fortunate enough to watch from the wrap-around porch of my three bedroom cabin that overlooks Estes! There are winter fire rings. There are Adirondack chairs. There are blue birds that have indescribably bold plumage. There's been great humor in watching my dog very seriously and audibly trying to take on a road-blocking elk from the comfort of the car. There are no words to describe the things I've seen in these few days in the mountains. At least, no words that I can find.
And here I am, with no camera to capture any of it.
I think I've blogged about cameras before. The beauty in NOT having one, in being able to focus attention on being PRESENT in the moment, not trying to capture it. Just enjoy it. And here I am. I seem to be whining about the absence of the pocket-sized digital box. But I'm not. I swear. In fact, this week has caused me to reflect on something entirely different.
A world without pictures.
Today, I am thinking about those who used their words to paint pictures. The writers who in one media or another, be it book, letter or song, have been able to articulate the beauty of a mountain winter. The wonder, the awe, the hardship that some have (many HAD) the ability to convey using only a pen and paper. So, tonight, nestled with my dog in front of a crackling stone fireplace, I am considering you. You the poet, the lyricist. You the novelist and great scribe.
You, who came before the camera and You, the lost.
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