This month's print is from a stormy evening in the monsoon season at the Grand Canyon.
There are rare experiences when one feels an ancient timelessness about what is going on. For millions of years storms have slowly shaped much of the Grand Canyon. And this one was doing its best to make a bigger than usual dent.
Despite its intensity the Canyon would still be there in the morning, not washed away like the sand on the beach. But yet it would be ever so imperceptibly different.
The juxtaposition of brooding darkness with light shining into its midst has been a perennial theme in religion, literature, and art. And here I was seeing and experiencing it first hand. Light was penetrating the storm. The analogy was not lost to me. Unfortunately at the time I could find no words to explain what was happening, so I just started taking pictures.
It was a profoundly moving experience, standing on the edge of a thousand foot precipice and watching the storms ever so imperceptibly change the shape of the canyon, as it had done countless times over countless millennia. How many times has this happened? I keep wondering.