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February 26, 2001

This has already been one of the greatest experiences in which I have ever had the pleasure of taking part. It is not only because of the glory of this Yosemite Valley, its high reaching precipices, and the multitude of emerald trees that completely encompass you from every angle and degree. It is in the simple things I have already and will continue to find, the overwhelming beauty and power that is felt when the word " Yosemite" comes to mind.

One small thing I have experienced thus far on my week's journey quite possibly has nothing to do with the mountains or the brooks, the wildlife or the acres of surrounding foliage. It is in the quiet whisperings of the morning breeze, sweeping so gently across our cabins and the cold hard rocks. One must be still and patient to hear its call. This factor is missing from the rush of our hometown, Merced. Or any town for that matter. Something that once possessed takes hold of your soul and lifts it to higher standing. A new view to meet the coming day. I hope to experience more of the small things in Yosemite this week Things which are much too often overlooked. To find a new understanding and respect for this amazing valley. I hope that [Suzanne] will experience much of the same. Amongst this world of small things, there are many big names here in the valley enjoying the stay with us. We have been attending readings and hope to find inspiration in the educated words spoken there.

February 27, 2001

A grouping of deer ambled into my sphere of vision seemingly out of nowhere today. Though I know they came from somewhere. The most delightful thing about this sighting was the number of deer in the grouping. I would have to say there were at least nine. Three horned ones and six lacking horns. I followed them a short way down the path, leading away from the park's sandwich shop in Yosemite Village. Up to a point where they were crossing over the path, passing a large puddle of water, formed by the melting snow. One of the male deer noticed the puddle and decided this was a good opportunity for a refreshing drink. Though it looked more like he was sucking the water through his cold dark nose rather than through his mouth. I took this opportunity also as a "kodak moment." As if the the shock of the water entering his nostrils and sliding ever so close to his brain had left him in a daze. A major "brain freeze". His head swung upward as to throw off the pain and he stared at me just long enough for two female deer to enter my frame behind him, both looking particularly puzzled at the sight of their stricken friend. At that moment, I slammed my finger against the button,

releasing the shutter in the camera for the light to grace the surface of the film, permanantly burning them into the emulsion on my Kodak Select B&W film. Hoping when it is returned to me from the Kodak labs, I will be left with a clear image. I think it was Ansel Adams who said, "If you get 12 good prints in a year, you've done a good job."

Al Young spoke today. He did a reading that was awe-inspiring. I find great pleasure in walking to and from the hotel to Curry Village. Last nigh, I made the trek in the dark, with none but the light of the moon and the stars to guide me. There is something in the stillness of the park at night. In the winter in particular, when the park does not recieve as many visitors. Something in the wind that ever so gently sweeps across the mud-stained snow, and even in the way that the sound of snowchain echoes off every peak sounding from every direction. That gives Yosemite a special feeling.

March 1, 2001

Today is our last day at the conference. It was a wonderfully exciting experience. Um... let's see. We were blessed to hear such writers as Brenda Hillman, my favorite, and Al Young, just to name a few. But each artist, with writing as their art, is unique. That, if nothing else, is the best thing I have learned at this conference. Lots of people will look at the world and see one great work, a single writer, a single petal of a flower. They try with all their might to become that petal...write with the same beauty as the original author. What they have missed is that two petals cannot grow from the same spot on a flower. Two things cannot exist in the same place at the same time. Even if odds did lean towards this, there are so many other petals on a flower, all different. Together they make a product, both vibrant hues and a delightful pungent smell. At the same time, the flower is never complete. There are new styles, new interests to create. So, in attending this conference, I have learned a great deal more than I could have learned in a week of school. A great life's lesson, and it could not have been held in a better place. The Yosemite Valley is full of life and wonder. Spiring mountains and an emerald garden paradise. I witnessed this granite fortress grow more beautiful by the day. Giving me more inspiration to persevere. To find my own niche in this world in the flower I seek to build my home. My own petal.

I don't do endings because the story never ends, but as I leave this garden today, I feel sad that something so splendid has to end. Good things never last, so I've been told, but there are always good times. For time at all is better than no time, and in my time to come, I hope to put my newfound knowledge to the test. Until next time...