Pioneer Spirit

The pink lasted about ten minutes. It arrived in stages, sat on the peaks in a few different intensities, and then the warmth went out of the light faster than I expected it to. I shot the whole way through and was glad afterwards that I hadn’t paced myself.

Early November, a long weekend up from Logan, out of a motel in Jackson before light. One other photographer was there when we arrived and a few more came in for sunrise, and nobody was in anybody’s way — we were all spread out in the sagebrush flat, which had gone gold for the winter.

There was a skiff of half-melted snow on the ground. I’d hoped for a proper covering and didn’t get one; what I got was patchy, and the field was a mire in places. The mountains had it right, though — enough snow to give the range definition, under a completely clear sky.

This one is the John and Bartha Moulton barn. There are two famous barns on Mormon Row, and I’ve still never shot the other one, the T.A. Moulton, up the road. It’s on the list. But I prefer this one, and I think it’s the fencing: the rails across the front make it read like a barn that still has a job, rather than a piece of scenery that happens to have mountains behind it.

Same November trip as Serpentine and Frost Fringe.