 |
| Zion National Park |
One vacation, Gay and Stu, my sister and BIL, and Barry and I flew out to Montana and rented an apartment in a little town near one of the gates to Yellowstone National Park. For a week we visited the park every day and had the best time ever. The bison moving like a wave across the prairie grass will be forever emblazoned into my mind. The majestic male Elk fighting in the Galatin River, deciding who would be leader of the herd, plays over and over in my mind. It became a poem, Scene from Yellowstone's Valiant Wild, that has been published a few times.
We had time to drive through the Great Tetons but wish we had been able to stop and enjoy that beautiful area. It was raining and cold, not a good day for outside. We did make this photo in front of the lake with snow covered mountains behind us. Looks cold, doesn't it?
 |
| Stu is taking this picture of Barry, me and Gay |
You and Me, Elsie and Old
Unfaithful
at Yellowstone National
Park
Our hands wrapped around
hot chocolate cups,
we shared a muffin with a
resident ground squirrel.
He ran under tables
and chairs in the room where a tree
grew up through the floor as we waited
for the
famous geyser to erupt on schedule.
Overcast
and cold, the day not meant for
sight-seeing,
but we settled in with front row seats
before a
giant picture-window. We didn't know the
mature
lady with years of laugh lines on her face,
until
Elsie took the chair beside us.
For 90
minutes she spilled out her life in cupfuls.
Chicago-born,
life-long teacher, retired
to an
island in Puget Sound near her only daughter.
I saw
this thing this morning and it didn't show me much.
Hope
it's better this time.
She pulled her sweater close.
What did
she expect? Predictable doesn't mean perfect.
I
smiled, remembering pictures of the scalding
water
shooting skyward, high into blue Montana sky.
Remembering
my anticipation of the day when
you and
I would be here to see this spectacle in person.
Dusk
fell, rain slanted against the pane.
Straining
my eyes, I spied the first short bursts
forced
from the bowels of the earth. There was
no apex
against cerulean sky. The geyser disappeared,
a ghost
into the mist, an apparition of my imagination.
The long
awaited marvel, like a candle flickered out,
left me
empty as the chocolate cups, no sweetness
for the chipmunk,
still hunting for some morsel.
Elsie
gathered up her coat and hat, ambled off stating
Still
doesn't show me much.
---Glenda Council Beall
Glenda, this is a sweet poem. I live only five or six hours away from Yellowstone, and I remember a family trip there when I was a teen-ager. We visited Old Faithful, and I wasn't impressed. My younger brother, an aspiring photographer at the time, took picture after picture, some out the window of our hotel room overlooking the gyzer.
ReplyDeleteHi Abbie,
ReplyDeleteI envy you all that beauty of Yellowstone so near, but I am sure, like we who live here in our mountains, it is easy to get on with life and pay little attention to what is around us. I'd love to go to Montana again and I would visit Yellowstone again. I think a teenager might not appreciate the wonders of Yellowstone. I was a mature adult and found it all amazing, except for Old Faithful that fizzled that day.
Thanks for stopping by Abbie.
You're welcome, Glenda. If you ever visit Yellowstone again, I'm only about five or six hours east of there. It's a pretty drive over the Bighorn Mountains. I'd love to meet you sometime.
ReplyDeleteAbbie, If I ever get back that way again, I will definitely try to see you while there. I enjoy your blog and admire you very much.
ReplyDelete