The rolling prairie country is still there, open and pure of the destructive hand of man. The natural beauty of it speaks of a demure innocence in this austere paradise. There remains enough to be captured in the photographer’s lens, such is the beauty of the land. The lens sets my heart ablaze with a yearning to go, to be a final witness to this bastion of beauty escaping in the fleeting West!

I get visions of “Dances With Wolves, himself,” from such a lens has Wyoming Bend.

The mountains, rivers, streams all exceed any nature in the Eastern States, where we are searching high and low for naught. Their forests are plentiful, with a wealth of wild life a plenty, living free on the open range. One notices a craving within themselves, to shuck the confines of a car, and mount horseback to search the limits of the horizon, before one has even arrived.

There are the various types of roads there, to be the challenge of the wild life. There are a few highways to simplify things for cars and trucks, including some dirt roads flanked by trees and Lord knows what else. The author is simply traveling by the lens of Wyoming Bent, and taking his assumptions from there. According to the photographer’s lens, it’s marvelous country.

The eastern states are replete with paved roads and real estate development, such that one can scarcely witness nature. There ought to be a law defending the wilds in this eastern country of mine, but there’s obviously not. In the midst of the eastern states, around the Mason/Dixon Line, south of Pennsylvania, in Maryland and Virginia, much has been ravaged of the substance of nature.

The developers are taking more of the wilds daily.

It’s not fair to our posterity. One wonders, and asks a question which can only be answered by the present state of disaster. Mankind is fascinated by the popular concept of disaster and pays money to see it. Mankind considers such as entertainment, nothing more. People are the more fascinated with disaster than they are with conservation.

A distorted perspective, at best.

The concept of a real estate bonanza has not stretched it’s brutal hand over much of the mid-west, the way it has in the eastern coastline. So much has remained untouched out West, one would weep for the wholesale destruction of nature here. But even the wild things habitat has abated here, though that’s not gone altogether – yet.

One does not only watch the wildlife in the headlights of the great, Out West. One encounters beasts in a plenitude, well within the light of day! It’s the wild things which are in prolifery in the western lands, or so it would appear through the lens of Wyoming Bent. As the photographer’s lens would have it, one focuses on much of the modern country of the West.

One craves to witness the bounty first hand!

There are dirt roads flanked by the woods, one road after another. Though the eastern country has fewer dirt roads, most have been paved by now. The inland prairie-land has unpaved lanes a plenty. The West is a nature lover’s paradise. One sees buffalo and horses, and oh yes, I long to ride a horse again! I find myself regretting my epilepsy and bad hip to the nth degree.

Being so bold as to get on a horse again might render me to a wheelchair.

I’ve survived so much trouble, hurt and shame, there’s not room enough on my computer’s hard drive to tell all the tales thereof, with gig after gig of storage still available. So, here I find myself on the east coast, with a second life sentence of disability on disability, almost more-so than I can fathom. I can only travel in a virtual word, and wish I had been healthier in the long run.

My friend sent me pictures of the great American west, and I’ve gazed until I’m daunted. I see so many places that are not accessible to my perpetual walker, and to go without it is unthinkable. It is convenient for me to be able to do a lot of things in cyberspace, since it is the only way I can safely fly. I wonder about my friend who is more disabled than I am.

I’ve found a wellspring of woods and nature, captured in the lens of photo after photo on the virtual pages of Wyoming Bent, where I hunger and thirst to be in the West, in all reality. I think I’ve struck up an arrangement with one of my customary drivers to take me to the woods. Soon I may be returning to paradise, which I haven’t seen in better than three years time.

I write thus to my friend out West, and she directs my attentions back to the photos, while my heart breaks, not for want of my lady friend, but for want of the adornments of nature so far away. I find myself craving a different sort of friendship with a woman than the one I’m familiar with. One would find me craving to know something ethereal out of a relationship.

This would be someone who will be as real with me as I’ll be with her.

This sort of companion is difficult to achieve this late in life, and a person with no encumbrances is even more rare at an advanced age, nonetheless, I’m looking. Many of the good one’s are taken. But it seems that treating a lady as a lady is something universal to all ages. The thing I find so rarely, is someone who understands a man’s intentions the way they are offered.

My western friend possesses some delightful qualities I admire. I enjoy her long distance friendship very well. Another one of her qualities I enjoy is her unshakeable faith in the Almighty. I happen to be a man of faith and principle. We are so few now. I have a way of becoming exceeding exuberant with my enthusiasms, and she has a gentle way of calming me down.

Such a good friend.

I find, in regards to the ladies in general; if a gentleman treats a lady like a lady, it has meaning to a lady. Today’s vernacular is decidedly unfortunate if applied to treating a lady like a lady. One needs to be careful of and his behavior, when interacting with the fairer gender. A man must treat the delicate with delicacy, treat the frail with a strong shelter for their frailties.

A man will find one catches more rabbits with a carrot than with a stick. That is, if you are in search of the mundane, rather than the spirit, this does not apply. A man who lives long enough to survive youth will comprehend whereof I speak, if he were to apply himself. One can only treat a lady daintily, when his mind is focused on spiritual matters.

It is not the supposition of this author that a man in his twenties cannot master this mindset.

These attitudes and perspectives begin to take wing in a man’s elder years, a time to become more of a gentleman and a scholar, if that’s the sort of thing one desires to be. It is only at this point in a man’s life that a man’s chemistry begins to calm down and cease making so much noise. It is at such a time one can look around, and see the difference between a lady and a tramp.

We’ve gone far a field from the mid west of the USA, but these things have been on my mind.


About geostan51

I'm a wordsmith and a craftsman. I've been known to hand crochet just about anything escept granny squares. I've got about twenty titles in my name on the Kindle Store at
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