Cathedral in the Desert
The deftly carved lines of Cathedral Rock soar upward to reflect in a small back eddy of Oak Creek, Sedona, Arizona.
The southwest holds any number of rock formations that Westerners have likened to religious houses of worship found in the Old World. Cathedrals, temples, minarets, drafted from erosion’s purest thoughts, etched by water and wrought from the stone of Earth’s skin, the source of our beings. Late in the day, as she rotates away from the continuous onslaught of the sun, the long-fingered red rays of light are the last to finally lose their grip.
Millions of years ago, water sought its way across layers of stone. And the stone always gave way, just a little, and the water found itself sinking, setting in motion the emergence of predicted but unpredictable patterns of erosion, each downpouring of summer monsoon adding emphasis to local features. Each passing year never quite the same as its predecessor. Here, the water seems to pause, if only for an unhurried moment, to admire its filigreed handiwork before it moves on to contemplate the future.
Cathedral in the Desert
The deftly carved lines of Cathedral Rock soar upward to reflect in a small back eddy of Oak Creek, Sedona, Arizona.
The southwest holds any number of rock formations that Westerners have likened to religious houses of worship found in the Old World. Cathedrals, temples, minarets, drafted from erosion’s purest thoughts, etched by water and wrought from the stone of Earth’s skin, the source of our beings. Late in the day, as she rotates away from the continuous onslaught of the sun, the long-fingered red rays of light are the last to finally lose their grip.
Millions of years ago, water sought its way across layers of stone. And the stone always gave way, just a little, and the water found itself sinking, setting in motion the emergence of predicted but unpredictable patterns of erosion, each downpouring of summer monsoon adding emphasis to local features. Each passing year never quite the same as its predecessor. Here, the water seems to pause, if only for an unhurried moment, to admire its filigreed handiwork before it moves on to contemplate the future.