More Gifts From Tumbleweed

One of my brother's blogs, American Idyll, features his photographs of the Grand Canyon, taken over many years spent as a guide and ardent lover of the place and its rivers, of *the* river, the Colorado.

Tumbleweed -- that'd be what my brother-unit calls himself now -- Tumbleweed and I have given it a good go.  We were lost to one another our entire adult lives until two years ago, when through the stammering confessions of unrelated family, I found him.  He has been nothing less than amazing and my love for him is real and deepened. 

But I made the mistake of becoming self-conscious and in so doing, every impulse to reach out to him was delayed just long enough to be tainted by that hesitation. The past few months, I gave up trying, except for the occasional early morning or late night communication.  They are deep, my emails.  Three days ago, I had the audacity to dazzle TW with pure edginess:

thinking of you!



Thanksgiving.  I am so thankful for Tumbleweed.  Thankful that the opportunity to know him and love him is not entirely diminished, that I get to try again.

In addition to his Boxed Gifts (here, here, and here), TW invited me early on to use American Idyll as a weapon against insomnia, fever, and pain -- and the frustration of a Traveler Unable to Travel.  My time spent sitting in the sun, wind, and snow of his photographs, beside and above rivers, floating in pools, has been a wonderful time apart from my reality, and an introduction to his.

From time to time, I've shared his work here, as well as pictures taken by his friend ruuscal, who now shares blog duty.  I hope that some of you have traipsed over to American Idyll as a result of these features.

Today, when I checked in, some black and white photography caught my eye, and that's what I am teasing you with now.  This is from an entry made a few days back.

He framed the photos with this quote from Geronimo, and with this music video of The Shadows covering Jerry Lordan's instrumental piece Apache. 



We had no churches,
no religious organization,
no sabbath days,
no holidays,
and yet we worshiped.
Sometimes the whole tribe
would assemble
and sing and pray,
sometimes a smaller number,
perhaps only two or three.
The songs had a few words,
but were not formal.
The singer would
occasionally put in
such words as he wished
instead of the
usual tone sound.
Sometimes we prayed in silence.
Sometimes each prayed aloud.
Sometimes an aged person prayed for all of us.
At other times one would rise and speak to us of our duties to each other.
Our services were short.
--Geronimo

TW titled the piece from Geronimo's remnant:  Sometimes We Prayed In Silence.




Vishnu Temple







Kathleen's Nipple from outside Clear Creek Canyon





Cheyava Falls