A Bolt Of Lightning, And Silent Thunder

Driving up the hill, to a home nesteled within, pulling into a drive, a lightning bolt struck across the concrete, its clear, I’m not in Montana anymore. Don’t get me wrong, traveling through Montana was great, the blueberries, the grasslands dusted with snow, however, removing myself, that is to take a break from my days of travel, was quite refreshing. I took some time to sit back, to relax, to read a book, you know, I really didn’t read that book, I just looked at pictures, photographs of lives stiched together. You learn a lot of a man, of his work, observing how he lives. There’s an old saying, still waters run deep, over many years, I had been facanated, with the work of this man, him wecoming me, extending hospatality to me, walking through his doorway, I begin to understand, to get some sense, of what drives his work!