Grand-canyon-south-rim The trip west was a lot for me to handle. And seems more than I can write about.

It's hard to have not written for nearly a month. Re-starting seems awkward.

Did You Keep A Journal?
Joe asked whether I wrote, even a sentence a day about what we were experiencing.

No. It was helpful for Joe in his travels, but I wanted time away from the keyboard. I already live A Writing Life. I wanted a non-writing trip.

Now, re-starting is all the more awkward. There are no notes.

And The Story Has Already Been Well Told
Friends have asked, "Did you take photographs?"

Sure, we took a few. (They are published on my Facebook profile.)

But I'm not a photographer, so these aren't photographs as much as they are snapshots.

And, really, aren't all the photographs already taken by the professionals? From Ansel Adams to the photographers on postcards — they have greater skill and have already shot it all. (That's Mr. Adams' "Grand Canyon from South Rim, 1941, Arizona," a vintage print from the Records of the National Park Service.)

My photographs are limited to the shots of our unique experience: our smiles along the way.

As For Writing…
I cannot surpass the book I've just finished — and read in the desert canyons, along hiking paths. I loved Edward Abbey's 1968 classic defense of wilderness (especially against "industrial tourism") from his perspective as a literate park ranger at Arches National Park, Desert Solitaire

How am I supposed to add to the late Mr. Abbey's magnificent writing? This book was recommended by friends and booksellers along the way — and they were so right.

There are small tales to tell.

In the coming weeks, I will add my frippery — one little frip at a time.