I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
~Joyce Kilmer, "Trees", 1914
I have a kind of love affair with trees. Always have. Growing up on a farm in the midwest, I cut my teeth on maple bark. Okay, not really. I probably cut my teeth on a window ledge like every other kid in my generation. But maple bark sounds more interesting, don't you think?
Dennis and I spent several hours in RMNP this morning. Between the two of us, we took over 200 photos. Not difficult to accomplish in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Photo ops abound. I particularly like to photograph golden aspen against cerulean skies, as shown in the above picture.
Here's another favorite. Fall color with Hallett Peak in the background. . .
Will I ever tire of photographing Bear Lake? I doubt it. . .
The twin fawns that have visited the homestead all summer are nearly grown now. I caught them with my camera earlier this week. . .
Their mother can't be seen in the photo. She's farther up the hill and doesn't watch over them as closely as she did. She's done an excellent job of raising them though, ensuring they can survive without her. Soon her offspring will leave her to fend for themselves. Pretty much the way it is for a human mom, too.
Nancy
