After spending a couple late-afternoon hours standing near a campfire at the lake with neighbors, I walked back up the hill to my house just as the sun dropped against the frost and snow landscape. The last light of day proved surprisingly warm as I marched up through the sagebrush and juniper.
I pause near the top of the
hill to capture a couple images, think about the fire down at the lake, and reflect
on something Buckminster Fuller said.
“Fire is the Sun unwinding from
the tree’s log,” he said.
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