Tag Archives: memories

Young Boys and Old Dogs

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Young boys and old dogs are one of those special relationships that can only happen under the most auspicious circumstances. Timing is everything. The boy is at that perfect age for a canine companion and the dog has the perfect temperament for a rambunctious boy. The circumstances are especially important because you need room for both boy and dog to roam and something to do that makes roaming worthwhile. This is usually never a problem with young boys, or old dogs either, for that matter. They also need a place to return to that completes that most special time period in childhood. And that, of course, is home.

After a full day roaming and doing stuff that young boys have to do to complete their boyhood and old dogs have to do to accompany them, if only to make sure they witness and confirm in dog style that the tasks are done correctly, it’s time to return to the home place. Maybe find a place to settle down and take a rest. Sleep or even a small nap is totally out of the question as boys unlike old dogs, do not give in to weariness. One might miss something. But every so often, when the boy is lying still and the warmth of the old dog begins to seep into his back and neck as he rests against that perfect pillow, his eyes might droop a little and his breathing quiets, and the dog lies still knowing that if it remains quiet it might get a little rest too, a short nap may occur.

The boy is a man now with a grown child of his own, and the old dog is just a memory of sun-filled days and tall grass to run through and the whole world to see. But memories remain and the further back out of the past they come the more precious they are. Especially when they bring back those feelings of seeing a young boy and an old dog doing what they do best. Being together and loving each other. And maybe catching a stray nap now and again.

Crow Elder – Time Keeper

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This post has been moved to OpenChutes.com. All future postings of Powwows, Indian Relay Races, Rodeos and Rendezvous will be posted there from now on exclusively. So if you’re looking for new images and posts for all those events attended this year, plus all the old posts posted on BigShotsNow.com check out OpenChutes.com. See you there!

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When photographing the Crow Fair last year I noticed how many of the elders of the tribe so easily fit into the duality of the moment. On one hand they were a large part of the present yet fit so naturally into the past. It was as if they were caught between time. You could easily imagine them shifting between now and then effortlessly. Their clothes draped on them so naturally, they held the trappings that they carried as if they were never out of their hands, and their faces showed the wealth of years of experience and memories. It would not be difficult to imagine them revisiting their heritage by slipping back and forth between time. Perhaps they do in their memories.

Elders in the tribes are held with the utmost respect and are included in the forefront of all the ceremonies and activities. In practically every major event there is a color guard that opens the activities and it is a mixture of young and old with the older participants in the front of the procession. They are a proud people and it shows in everything they do. This Crow gentleman was one of the color guard participants and his patience and serene demeanor was an example for all.

It was my pleasure and honor to be able to photograph the members of the Crow tribe and I will be periodically featuring them through out the year.

Rhythms

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Rhythms. They are the heartbeat of life. Whether it is the roaring of the Yellowstone river through the LeHardy rapids or the slow steady waving of tall grass in the Gibbon meadows the rhythm is there. I remember as a kid being incredibly tuned in to the rhythm of my world. The noise your feet made in new tennis shoes as you walked down a hot blacktopped road, the echoes of a crow calling way back in the woods, the sounds of tires on the highway coming into your room late at night, faint in the beginning, then louder, then fading away again as you lay on top of the covers, too hot to be covered up.

I don’t know if we hear those rhythms as much any more, or pay attention to them if we do, and if we do hear them they’re usually all fast and furious and mostly discordant. When everyone lived a more agrarian lifestyle, rhythms were huge. When to plant, when to harvest. Get up when it’s light, go to bed when it’s dark. We don’t farm any more or least the majority of us don’t so there’s not much opportunity to experience the natural cycles around us. The nearest I came to being aware of and working within the natural rhythms was when I was building landscape ponds for gardens. If you’ve ever had one you know that they have a mind of their own and they run the show, not you. If you fight them they will never cooperate but if you learn their rhythm they will do exactly what they’re supposed to at exactly the right time and you become a caretaker rather than a opponent. Nature tells the pond what to do and when to do it and it is always right. Once you learn that life gets easy.

Summer has it’s own set of rhythms and they are usually longer, a deep cycle with a low strong beat. It makes for long, slow, lazy afternoons and provides time to lay in the grass and let the warm sun wash over you, thinking of nothing, just being. The rewards of being a photographer, especially one that concentrates on the natural world, is you get to hear and see the rhythms of life once more even if it is only reliving them through your images.

Cloudscapes

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Huge, billowing clouds moving slowly across the sky have always been an arresting sight for me. Memories of childhood float up from the depths and soon you are seeing sailing ships and improbable animals and one that might even look like your loopy uncle Skid, although I guess its possible you didn’t have a loopy uncle Skid. We did and he was great. People travel great distances to see the light and sky of other places but we  have that magic right here in our back yard in Colorado. The images that follow were taken from our deck looking west towards Rocky Mountain National Park as we gently eased into sunset.

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As the sun moved further towards the west the light began to take on a reddish hue

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Soon the blue and white was being replaced by reds and yellows and pinks

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and some of the thunderheads were taking on a pronounced bluish-black underside.

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When the sun goes behind the hilltops and ridges the lower parts of the clouds go dark while the upper parts can be brilliantly highlighted.

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Then as full darkness approaches the gold comes out. There is still some blue in the background because the mountains are lower over there and let the last of the sunlight through.

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An explosion of gold and orange and yellows is brought into even greater contrast by the black undersides of this mammoth cloud. That’s the last hurrah, like that incredible finale at a fireworks exhibition. The only thing missing is the William Tell overture playing in the background.

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The sun is completely set and this last look is tinged in blues and purples with rose highlights, the evenings swansong.