Canyons
Canyons. Trips through time. We’ve walked two this trip. Santa Elena. And Closed. Both were beautiful in their own ways. The first had the Rio Grande. The second had only memories of the river. In either case, the walls towered above us, with rocks ready to fall the next time water fell from the sky, or gravity decided it was time it was to go.
it ‘s always fun to look at the rocks on the ground and wonder from whence they came. To stare up at the canyon walls and place the pieces of the puzzle back into their spots. Sometimes it works. Sometimes not. And there’s always the wonder of what it would have been like to see the big rocks fall, what sort of thunderous sound did they make when they hit the ground.
In Big Bend it’s also fun to think of the days when the volcanoes boiled and belched clouds of ash and lava. And then wonder what it must have been like when all that stopped and the rains began to fall and the Rio Grande clawed its way into existence. Vast swatches of time. The patient water carving the rock, finding paths of least resistance, turning the remnants of fire and ash into cold stone and canyons with cool breezes, a place for tiny humans to walk and wonder.