This and the next two images are renderings from memory of the little house in which I grew up in the foothills of the Appalachians in North Carolina. Memories of childhood are wide, powerful, and timeless, as in this poem by the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke.

I love the dark hours of my being
in which my senses drop into the deep.
I have found in them, as in old letters,
my private life, that is already lived through,
and become wide and powerful now, like legends.
Then I know that there is room in me
for a second huge and timeless life.

I spent many a night in that field learning the constellations or watching the moon rise beyond Bradford mountian, which I called Dinosaur Hill.

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All original images ©1970-2011 by Greg A. West. All rights reserved. Trademarks shown in examples and on the Links page are the property of their respective owners and are not available for reproduction.