I've turned from thoughts of photographic technique to thoughts of land and wilderness in the last few days. Enduring the uncertainty of wilderness, its future, is like sitting in the hospital waiting room while a loved one undergoes surgery. I'm finding comfort, and hope, in the "The Hour of Land" by Terry Tempest Williams.

"Cynicism flourishes in air-conditioned rooms. Like any true place the desert is a risk. Back into a barrel cactus and you may get hurt. But touch its yellow flowers with petals like wax and the pain from its needles lessens. Our fear of being touched removes us from a sensate world. The distant self becomes the detached self who no longer believes in anything. Awe is the moment when ego surrenders to wonder. This is our inheritance – the beauty before us. We cry. We cry out. There is nothing sentimental about facing the desert bare. It is a terrifying beauty." – Terry Tempest Williams.

Time soon to get out and shoot. The mornings are cooling.


Photo Credit: Cyd Peroni

Cyd Peroni