Walking around Yosemite Valley, one grasps the power of consistency. Throughout the park, water moves along with quiet insistence on having its way. Snowmelt becomes the streams and waterfalls shaping future magnificence with tiny, constant force.
Pushing on is a requirement to create a masterpiece.
Battles are won by inches over miles, both within and without.
It’s not easy.
I struggle with it all the time.
It took me more than two years–and more heartache than I care to mention–to engineer a move into new surroundings.
I’ve shaken my fists at the sky.
My heart was relentless when my brain was fed up.
I just knew.
The smallest details intrigue me. I welcome the kiss of a cool ocean breeze and stare with gratitude at the trees stretching into the sky above.
Along challenging roads and through desperate hours, I have dreamed of a time I would call this place home.
I clawed the ground with my fingernails.
I can’t believe I made it so far.