by cheri sabraw
My brother Steve took this luscious photograph while in Montana last summer when he and his son Tyler fished the Madison River.
Wouldn’t this scene make for a splendid landscape painting? The lone tree presiding over an obedient river tamed by orderly fencing and blushing grasses appeals to many sides of my personality.
And what about this scene?
This melody in pastel blues and mustardy yellows was taken by my sister-in-law, Lue when she and her family visited the Carrizo Plain, a large grassland in San Luis Obispo County, California.
What appeals to me about Lue’s photograph is the presence of two explorers who seem to be walking on a salty sandy earth.
And then there is a photograph I took several years ago in Buonconvento, Tuscany.
One might be inclined to enhance this photo but what I love about it are the muted blue-greens and the small house in the background.
I’d like to be sitting on that bench, peeking through the cypress trees.
Landscapes provide many avenues of thought.
I am still pulled by and drawn to scenes of the west.
I took this photo in Yellowstone National Park. The two bison are heading my way. I am absolutely enthralled.
Ron’s photograph of an old abandoned shack off Highway 50 in southern Utah looks almost too perfect to be true. I’d like to host a small party in that shack, bring our Weber and some steaks (although that might upset the cattle peering on), crack open some wine and wait for the Sons of the Pioneers to show up and seranade us with Red River Valley.
I took this nostalgic photo in Scipio, Utah. The greens caught my eye and of course, the well-preserved gas pump and barn door. I’m attracted to the way men might have dressed during the years when this pump was in use. I say men because I don’t think women would have been pumping their own gas.
If you have followed this blog for more than five years, then you know Ron and I have made two trips to the site of the Battle of the Little Big Horn in eastern Montana.
I love this photo, not only for the wispy dry twigs and yellow mustard that shelter the graves from the judgemental stares of most who view them, but also because there in the middle is the spot where Custer himself got his just desserts.
If you have thoughts or photos of a landscape that tugs at your heart, send them to me and I will post them.