NORTH HILLS LIGHT
"If ever I can't see, the magic around me, please take my hands off my eyes."
Cloud Cult
You could spend a lifetime in the North Hills of Missoula and fail to see all possible variations of light and form. A spring snow shower at the peak of the shooting star bloom is neither unprecedented nor is it an annual event. Mammatus clouds from horizon to horizon when the hills are maximally green doesn't happen every spring. A coyote pausing for a single second in dappled light to play with her pup, a rare gift. 300 acres, teeming with life. The closer you look, the more there is to see.
Sit long enough, I've learned, and the place will absorb you. Job commitments, taxes, chores, aches, pains, worries, poof. Gone, carried away by the wind on the song of the meadowlark. Sit longer, become lupine. I've seriously considered it. But I do return. My job, taxes, chores, aches, pains and worries need me in this freed form. The burden is always lighter on the other side of yellow bells, balsamroot, Missoula phlox, bald eagles, bluebirds and crepuscular rays.
This spring, I spent 32 days watching the light along three miles of trail in those verdant hills. Shooting stars led me to scattered lone trees casting impossibly long shadows. The tree vigil led me to a coyote, who, at 100 yards through a telephoto lens, led me to her den. There I stayed for weeks. As the pups grew, so did the cumulonimbus clouds, eventually chasing me out of the hills and back to my den. This collection of images is a feeble attempt at preserving those fleeting moments of light. The true magic, of course, lay within experiencing life itself.
Scroll through the gallery or click on any image to arrow through.
