Evoke: (to produce or suggest through artistry and imagination a vivid impression of reality)

You know how sometimes images can be so powerful? They can bring back happy recollections and warm thoughts, and have the ability to even create a longing for a future memory. Well, that's the case with our friend Eric's photos. Every so often I bug him to send me a picture to showcase on my blog. Well, I bugged him months ago, and he reciprocated rapidly. But then the summer craziness crowded in, and people were graduating and wanting pictures, and people were having weddings and wanting pictures, and people were having babies and wanting pictures. Which is good. Great, actually. But our friend Eric? His picture still sat in my folder, and it kept taunting me, bugging me to get it out. Because something this haunting, this beautiful, something that evokes such longing needs to be shown. (And because, for pity's sake, I want the picture to stop calling my name.)

It makes me want to dust off old dreams of travel and hiking, creating a desire to find a quiet place in the middle of a huge wilderness and sit and dream. (And take pictures, of course.)

Unfortunately, I hold not the talent for landscape and nature photography that Eric does. So instead, I live vicariously through his travel and experiences, and share some of them with all of you. Because it's just the nice thing to do.

There's a nice story behind this image, and though I keep asking him for all the details, this is all I know, quoted directly from Eric's email:

"It's a longer story for another day, but basically I had to wait for the elk to stop frolicking in the water so that I could get the reflection of the mountains back again." 1/40s, F/14, 18mm, ISO 200

Are you kidding me?! (Oh, that's me talking again.) Can anyone imagine me sitting and waiting for anything to happen-- least of all waiting for elk to get out of the frame, so I can get what I want of the still reflection?! I'd probably want to be up in the elks' faces, trying to showcase their personality with the gleam in the big guy's eye or something. To have a fraction of Eric's patience would be a blessing. (Paul thinks that would be nice if I did, too, I'm sure...)


Okay, I want to hop on a plane and visit Wyoming now. Can you imagine it in autumn?! So, if you want to live vicariously through his images, you can purchase Eric's fabulous artwork on his site here: www.ericjvirkler.com. Methinks you'll be glad you did.

"My profession is to always find God in nature."

-Henry David Thoreau, New England-born author, poet, naturalist
(1817-1862)