In the northwest corner of New Mexico on the Navajo Reservation, Shiprock stands 1800 feet tall on an otherwise totally flat landscape. Its Navajo name is Tsé Bit' A'í, which means Rock with Wings.
Navajo storytellers share a legend about Shiprock.
A long time ago the Diné were hard pressed by their enemies. One night their medicine men prayed for their deliverance, having their prayers heard by the Gods. They caused the ground to rise, lifting the Diné, and moved the ground like a great wave into the east away from their enemies. It settled where Shiprock Peak now stands. These Navajos then lived on the top of this new mountain, only coming down to plant their fields and to get water.
For some time all went well. Then one day during a storm, and while the men were working in the fields, the trail up the rock was split off by lightning and only a sheer cliff was left. The women, children, and old men on the top slowly starved to death, leaving their bodies to settle there.
While I am the very definition of an amateur photographer, it is something I enjoy doing. Attribute it, perhaps, to a manifestation of early mental miasma. There are so many little bits of life -- characters, colors, composition, vignettes, snippets of conversation, sightings both natural and otherwise -- that delight me. I don't want to lose them in that miasma, so I try to capture them in one way or another. The camera has a long memory.