Among The Weightless…


Rainbows are illusions in Nature’s mirror.


History is a concept, often assisted by gravity.

There are many things that can only be weighed by a heart or mind.



Summer Reruns


I went for an easy one this week, an “old” rainbow from my film archives, circa 1976. It’s one of a handful of pictures where I can recall what camera/lens combination I was using (Minolta SRT and 35mm Rokkor-X), and how I felt while chasing it. Literally chasing.

Dramatic weather sometimes seems fated to occur when the foreground is really lousy—there are either too many complementary items, or none at all. This was taken right before sundown near Charlo, Montana, at the edge of the National Bison Range. I drove out on a couple of side roads, hoping for something interesting before the light disappeared, and literally around the last corner, at the base of a small hill, I found this wonderful cloud hanging on a barbed wire fence…

Good night, and good luck.
—Edward R. Murrow


The Lower Falls of the Yellowstone River, in the Grand Canyon
of the Yellowstone. Photographed from Uncle Tom’s Trail.

Fresh Water

Fresh Water

The McKenzie River is a beautiful river. Its clear cold waters are blue, seething with bubbles, and active—this is no place for the faint-hearted. Famed for trout fishing and wooden drift boats, it starts at Clear Lake, hurrying down from the mountains through black lava fields and dark evergreen forests. In several places it tumbles…soars…over rocky cliffs, none more exuberant than the 100-foot drop-off we call Sahalie Falls.

I pulled off the highway on Saturday so my grandsons could see this boisterous display of nature—the river’s running full now, the beneficiary of later-than-normal snowfalls and rain—and it actually stopped them in their tracks. Over many years the forest services have improved the site—replacing red pumice rock with pavement in the tiny parking area, adding access for wheelchairs, cutting down a couple of potentially dangerous trees (they could fall on visitors), building a larger restroom—while the waters continue their wild romp through the canyon, unchanged since I first viewed it forty-five years ago.

Before leaving we walked the short trail to the top of the falls, where we were rewarded with rainbows dancing above the turbulent waters. Everyone agreed we’d already found the pot of gold.