In May 1869, Major John Wesley Powell set out on a remarkable mission: to explore the uncharted canyons and waters of the Green and Colorado rivers. Powell, a geology professor and one-armed Civil War veteran, began the journey with nine novice oarsmen and four wooden boats. He ended the journey three months later with two boats, six men and detailed knowledge of a unique landscape that would capture national attention.
As they first entered the wilds of canyon country, Powell wondered in his journal, “What shall we find?” When Powell’s party reached this section of the river in July, he described a “strange, weird, grand region” of naked rock with “cathedral-shaped buttes, towering hundreds or thousands of feet, cliffs that cannot be scaled, and canyon walls that shrink the river into insignificance.”
Powell’s voyage opened a world of adventure and scientific discovery that continues today.
Shots from my trip to Moab Utah, in March of 2021. Enjoy.
Susan loved the movie Forrest Gump. We often recited the well-known lines between Forrest and Jenny.
Me: ….are you my girl?
Susan: I’ll always be your girl…..
She is.
And so is Bella.
Sadly, this week, I had to say goodbye to our Bella. She had degenerative disk disease and arthritis. Also, about three months ago, she hurt her left leg running down our gravel road. She loved to sprint after doing her “business.” It was fun to watch. Except when she hurt her leg.
I tried everything; acupuncture, laser therapy, adequine shots, epson salt baths. But the leg just never got better. In the video below you’ll see one of my socks on her left leg. Because of disk disease she was dragging the leg. And it needed protection. (A more fashion conscious ensemble was on order from Amazon.)
Top half of her body still worked. Bottom half not so much. In the last two weeks I had to hold her straight while she squatted to P&P. Which I was willing to continue. But she stopped eating regularly. And was refusing her treats! She started to look at me as if to say, do something!
Doubled her pain meds in the last two weeks. That was something. But not enough.
I took her for a four hour ride on the parkway this Wednesday (see pic below). She loved our rides. We enjoyed Wednesday on the parkway very much. But understandably couldn’t visit “Our Spot.” Except from a distance.
What a great companion Bella has been for Susan and I. Susan’s last two years. And now with me for 4. I can’t imagine having a better dog. Patient, kind, obedient. And most of all loving.
You wonder about the timing of these things. As pet owner you have the power of life and death over these beautiful creatures of God. So you want to do the right thing by them. God graciously confirmed the timing of my difficult decision Thursday morning.
Before I backed out of my driveway to take Bella to the Vet for the last time, I turned my radio on for some “mood music.”
The Last of the Buffalo, 1888 by Albert Bierstadt Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art
Overview
The Last of the Buffalo is Albert Bierstadt’s final, great, western painting. Measuring six by ten feet, it mirrors in size his first massive oil, Lake Lucerne (1858), also in the National Gallery of Art collection. The ambitious landscape combines a variety of elements he had sketched during multiple western excursions. Because of its composite nature, the view incorporates many topographical features representative of the Great Plains: the dead and injured buffalo in the foreground occupy a dry, golden meadow; their counterparts cross a wide river in the middle ground; and others graze as far as the eye can see as the landscape turns to prairies, hills, mesas, and snowcapped peaks. Likewise, the fertile landscape nurtures a profusion of plains wildlife, including elk, coyote, antelopepronghorn, fox, rabbits, and even a prairie dog at lower left.
Many of these animals turn to look at the focal group of a man on horseback locked in combat with a charging buffalo. In contrast with his careful record of flora and fauna, the artist’s rendering of this confrontation and its backdrop of seemingly limitless herds is a romantic invention rather than an accurate depiction of life on the frontier. By the time Bierstadt painted this canvas, the buffalo was on the verge of extinction. The animals had been reduced in population to only about 1,000 from 30 million at the beginning of the century. Scattering buffalo skulls and other bones around the deadly battle, Bierstadt created what one scholar described as “a masterfully conceived fiction that addressed contemporary issues” one that references, even laments, the destruction wrought by encroaching settlement. However, at about this time, efforts to preserve the buffalo began to garner support. In 1886, when Smithsonian Institution taxidermist William T. Hornaday traveled west, he was so distraught by the decimation of the buffalo that he became a preservationist. He returned to Washington with specimens for the Smithsonian and also with live buffalo for the National Zoo, which he helped establish in 1889 one year after Bierstadt completed this painting.
