I don’t know where we are – somewhere between Denver and Boise — but I just woke up early (10:30 AM – it’s early, on a tour-bus), opened the bus curtains and saw … sheep.
Sheep running by the side of a two-lane road, with cowboys on horses and herding-dogs. my view interrupted by passing semi-trucks.
I wasn’t fast enough to get a picture, but then I realized – how could I possibly capture this experience in a photo??
And realized – again — why live events are so wondrous. Why hundreds and thousands of people come each night to see these shows we’re performing. The experience – not of having caught it – but of being caught up in it.
Even if I’d been fast enough with my camera – how could my photo capture that?
Only … maybe … I could create a new experience if I told you the story, or made my own story in which I was the small, dark cowboy on his horse – the rich brown of this horse the only vibrant color for miles, the sheep twiddling swiftly on their stick-straight legs, sheep of many sizes all rushing without purpose but holding feebly to a sense of direction and grasping panic to the thought “I do not see the trucks! I do not see the trucks!”
… The cock-sure mottled Australian Shepherd flanking the back of the herd and the two huge, lumbering off-white lumpier dogs that trailed the herd further out in the fields — the two-lane road, the broad, open fields on either side.
And me alone in the empty front lounge of the tour-bus, the only one up at 10:30, and the only time I’ve ever seen all the curtains of the tour-bus open – the second time only I remember us traveling in mid-daylight hours since the start of this tour a month-and a half ago.
That was my exquisite treat this morning. And here is the only picture of sheep I could find – two Christmas cookies I made a few years back and nothing like the absolute deluge of real sheep this morning — but an effort at the experience of my own herd.