An Autumn Sunset Across the Shenandoah Valley

Shenandoah National Park - Skyland, Virginia

“I have never been lost, but I will admit to being confused for several weeks”

-- Daniel Boone

An Autumn Day in Shenandoah National Park

Autumn Afternoon - Shenandoah National Park

While the folks were partying and getting woozy at the Jon Stewart Rally last Saturday,  I got away from the City and headed to the Mountains in Shenandoah National Park in northern Virginia. With visions like these, you can have your cities and rallies. I''d plain just hang out in the mountains and stare at the Autumn skies. 

“I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.” -- John Muir

Please visit my site at www.michaelpancierphotography.com

The Mountains Call Me Once Again ...

Autumn in Shenandoah National Park - Sperryville, Virginia

So I must go ....

God's Greatest Gift

Shenandoah National Park, Virginia
© 2009 Michael Pancier Photography

Please visit my website at www.michaelpancierphotography.com

"The greatest gift that God in His bounty made in creation, and the most conformable to His goodness, and that which He prizes the most, was the freedom of will, with which the creatures with intelligence, they all and they alone, were and are endowed." -- Dante

Good Tidings from Shenandoah National Park

Image © 2009 Michael Pancier Photography
Visit my Website at Michael Pancier Photography

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."

-- John Muir, Our National Parks , 1901

Landscape Poetry

Image © 2009 Michael Pancier Photography, All Rights Reserved
Images and Prints Available at MichaelPancierPhotography.com

This T.S. Eliot poem came to mind as I took this photo in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia.

So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years—
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l'entre deux guerres
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate—but there is no competition—
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

T.S. Eliot - East Coker