It’s early one Saturday morning. I’m at the top of Abiquiu canyon. I see the Chama River running below. I see the red willows and the yellow chamisas in the morning light. I see three beautiful cottonwoods. I say to myself, “What a beautiful photo that would make!” I walked down to the bottom of the canyon. I held those three beautiful cottonwoods for a moment, and I kissed them, too. I went to take their photograph against the willows.

Then I saw her standing off by herself, very silent. She was black and charred from being struck by lightening. She had lost all her hair. I didn’t want to put my arms around her or kiss her. She kept calling me, and I stopped and looked at her once more. She was black. The willows were a bright red-pink around her. There were yellow chamisas at her feet.

I held up my camera and looked at her through the lense. She made everything around her look beautiful. This is her portrait. I walked over and gently kissed her. My lips were now black with a touch of her beauty. She is still one of my teachers today. I go back to visit her often in that magical canyon.