Communing With Nature…


On our second and last day at Horseshoe Canyon hubs and I took a walk.

Similar to a hike in that every step or two involved a rock, boulder or fallen tree, we wandered for an hour or two.


As a writer I was wracking my brains for adequate descriptive words to bring the stony earth to life.


It wasn’t pastoral like the English countryside I was used to, rolling meadows, delicate wildflowers, ordered stands of trees, neat edges.  Evidences that the creator was neat and tidy.  That He had not coloured outside the lines.

I looked around the terrain and felt a power.  I wouldn’t say it was violent but it looked as though a lot of strength had gone into wresting this canyon into shape.


Looking up at the commanding cliffs


I tried to imagine what had been the last straw to cause some of the largest boulders I have ever seen to come crashing through trees to litter the ground.


At their tumblage they must have left a path of destruction in their wake, trees flattened, earth churned.  Now there were trees belying what must have once been a wasteland.  Beautiful, tall trees, changing colour brazenly in the heat of an autumn sun.


The boulders were huge on their own, thousands of tons I would think


and now I’m reconsidering the destructive path they may have taken and wondered if they fell while under water during the time when the canyon was a sea?

The surface of the canyon is dotted with these sandstone rocks and boulders.

They look as though giants have been playing a unique game of hurling.  There is no order here, the landscape is wild and ferocious, fierce and menacing.

It is not prettiful to me.  It makes a statement, one that defies my power, one that leaves me awed by the imposing domination of rugged cliffs


and towering, brightly coloured trees.


On the slopes of the Ozarks, rounds of colour set the canyon on fire.


Reds and oranges mix defiantly with the greens and yellows.  Todays copper and bronze shine through the Maple reds and browns of tomorrow’s turning, creating changing landmarks to dot the scenery.

The tapestry shows no weariness when pressed into service to bring alive the excitement of a mountain woven with variegated colours to put Joseph’s amazing, technicolor coat to shame.

I would have too much reserve to be able to dream of parading this motley display of God’s autumnal palette.


Nature flaunts her creator’s genius as He paints unabashedly outside the lines.  God knows nothing of our restrictions that stifle our energy.  His canvas bursts with exaltation against a dark blue sky, reflecting the sun’s rays, kissing her sunset fingers.


At dawn the fiery globe returns and gently stretches out her tendrils to ignite the shadowed leaves that mimic the floating orb.  I watched a breathtaking miracle unfurling on the the hill while the sun wrested free from the horizon.




Share this:

No comments so far!

Leave a Comment