The first time I made beauty for a hurt place was in the Utah Canyonlands. I was hiking along a narrow canyon, following the wash that had cut through the fox-red rock, when I came upon the old cottonwood that had been struck by lightning. Something in me fell in love with that venerable old tree. It stood there, nakedly bearing its whole history. It was life that endured despite the fact that it had stopped growing, blooming, responding to the wind. It endured.
Image Credit:
- Meltzer: Rob Meltzer
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