The North Channel Platte River, 7-9 am, here in the heartland of Nebraska, the bread basket of the US.
I’m channeling my inner Jim Gonia, slowing down and engaging in the spiritual practice of trying to slow down and see what’s right in front of me, with the aid of a camera lens. The land, this garden we’ve been given, with a symphony of birds the whole way. I confess I go through life too fast and miss things.






















About a mile and a half into the walk I came upon a park. Yanney Heritage Park, one of the nicest mid-sized town parks I’ve ever seen.



















