I’ve only walked amongst the hoodoos in October; twice now. I don’t know what it is like walking amongst them any other time of year. Is the sky as blue? Is the temperature as perfect? Is the smell in the air different?
I may never find out the answers to those questions, or what it is about eroded layers of compacted mud that is so fetching.
Seriously; it’s just dirt.
Yet, somehow, I cannot tire of staring through the lens at dirt.