‘Mud is Beauty in the making, Mud is melody awaking; Laughter, leafy whisperings, Butterflies with rainbow wings; Baby babble, lover’s sighs, Bobolink in lucent skies; Ardours of heroic blood All stem back to Matrix Mud.
Mud is mankind in the moulding, Heaven’s mystery unfolding; Miracles of mighty men, Raphael’s brush and Shakespear’s pen; Sculpture, music, all we owe Mozart, Michael Angelo; Wonder, worship, dreaming spire, Issue out of primal mire.
In the raw, red womb of Time Man evolved from cosmic slime; And our thaumaturgic day Had its source in ooze and clay . . . But I have not power to see Such stupendous alchemy: And in star-bright lily bud Lo! I worship Mother Mud.’
The track is actually only as big as your fist – it just looks huge in this picture. We were hiking down a small canyon this past summer and there, in the muddy creek ahead of us, were the very fresh prints of this bear. He’d probably passed through about an hour earlier. There were a lot of bear in the area and we saw mother’s with cubs as well. Needless to say, we kept our distance!
Comments
Love this picture. What a story behind it!
The track is actually only as big as your fist – it just looks huge in this picture. We were hiking down a small canyon this past summer and there, in the muddy creek ahead of us, were the very fresh prints of this bear. He’d probably passed through about an hour earlier. There were a lot of bear in the area and we saw mother’s with cubs as well. Needless to say, we kept our distance!
– Cindy Cooperider