Whilst most of Wyoming resembles a Mad Max apocalyptic landscape, the light at dusk–can and does–elevate the typical high-dessert scene to something more warm and inviting … If you take the time to see it.
On this day, our dog Shadow has prompted a quick pull over to pee and ponder the setting sun. Just a few miles from home, and I don’t know if I’ve ever noticed the rusted tin trailer that likely hasn’t had a human inside it in decades. The toppled plastic dinosaur speaks to the fossil futility of its kind’s iconic fall.
Impending rain presses closer to town. Abandoned corrals ebb with ambient movement. The subtle flow of irrigation canals reflect a magic-hour light–which ironically lasts only minutes.
I’ve driven the miles between my small hometown in the Wind River Mountain Range, and the nearest shopping arenas an hour or two away, yet shamefully, have not taken much time to stop and smell the photo-ops.
These are not belabored tripod shots with multi metered exposure readings, bracketed for that perfect calendar page. These are point and shoot hand-held grab shots. Journal entries, representing moments that usually pass me by … or is it the other way around? I fear too often it’s the latter.