Nature Inspires Art, Yellowstone Inspires Nature

 

 

Driving Yellowstone is a trip back in time, and more than pre-historic time even though a dinosaur walking across the landscape wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

 

In this real life vision of Jurassic Park buffalo work just fine.

 

By back in time I mean a 45 mph speed limit and signs telling you about animals on the road, not a warning there might be animals, there will be animals. The signs come with animal silhouettes in the shape of what’s out there.

 

By back in time in time I mean a time when we believed the words we heard from authorities we trust. I believe Yellowstone is as untouched by man’s improvements and modern forestry as promised. Why wouldn’t I?

 

The place is huge, but also as intimate as a the memory of a secret whisper.

 

“People come here and copy me,” Yellowstone whispered to me in a woman’s voice.

 

“Who said that?” I whispered back from the middle of an explosive looking patch of geysers.

 

“You may call me Yelly and I’m sorry to complain but this has to stop,” she said.

 

“Copying? Is that a bad thing?” I asked Yelly.

 

“They never give me credit. I ask, but it doesn’t always work,” she said in a tired breath. “I work so hard to inspire people and what do they do? Nothing. Take this painting for example. If that’s not me, nothing is.”

 

“Yeah, Yelly, but those are sailboats on the ocean. See ’em in there?” I said. “You’re not an ocean.”

 

“That’s what they all say, pal, but I cross all borders. Put a sailboat out in the Norris Basin and it’s the same thing. I’d fill those sails faster than any squall,” Yelly said.

 

II

 

“Yelly, you’re a National Park. You get more credit than any of the others. You were first and you’re still best. You’ve got your own grand canyon, your own river of no return, your own mountains and meadows. Come on, Yelly, what’s this credit stuff?” I said.

 

“You still don’t get it. I’m more than a National Park. I’m interplanetary. Check out my pools and my red. See the swirls?” she said.

 

“Right. Let me get a picture. Okay.”

 

 

“Do you know what you’re looking at?” Yelly said.

 

“Blue pools and red mud?” I ventured.

 

“That’s what it looks like,” she said, “but the red is key. Can you think of another red?”

 

“Uh, crimson is red,” I said.

 

“Oh for pity’s sake. How about Mars? Does Mars ring a bell?” Yelly said.

 

“Why the bad attitude, Yelly?” I asked.

 

“What you call bad attitude I call a response to ignorance,” she said. “I’m the place for primordial ooze, the beginning of life, the change from a ball of spinning gas to continents and oceans. You find that here, right here, and no one says nothing.”

 

“You want the Red Planet to tip a moon to you? Would that be enough?” I said.

 

“It’d be a start.”

 

“Then I’ll get right on it,” I said.

 

III

 

“I’ve heard it before, but thank you. While you’re at it, could you mention my green stream? People come to ooo and aahhhh over my geysers, but my special is my green stream,” Yelly said.

 

“The orange is nice, too,” I added.

 

“The green is actual growth,” Yelly said. “There’s a plant growing in geyser drainage. Do you know how hard that is? Feel the water. Just kidding, don’t. It’s hot as hell, but not too hot for my blossoms.”

 

 

“So what makes the color,” I asked.

 

“I’ll run it down for you the way they do on the National Park Service:

 

• Yellow deposits here typically contain sulfur. Some thermophiles live in these areas because they use chemicals like sulfur for energy, sometimes creating hydrogen sulfide gas (the rotten egg odor). They form communities of mats and streamers that look like waving clumps of hair, in the hottest acidic runoff, which measure between 140°F/ 60ºC and 181°F / 83ºC.

 

• Dark brown, rust, and red colors abound in Norris and contain varying amounts of iron. Red-brown mats may also contain bacteria and archaea that help build the mats by metabolizing and depositing iron. These iron-oxide deposits often contain high levels of arsenic. These communities form in water below 140° F/ 60ºC.

 

• Emerald-green mats color many of the runoff channels of hot springs and geysers here. Algae are the dominant life forms in these mats and contain chlorophyll, a green pigment that helps convert sunlight to energy. Some bacteria and archaea also grow in these mats, which form below 133°F \ 56ºC.

 

• Dark blackish-green mats form in even cooler water. An alga called Zygogonium forms these communities of mats and streamers.”

 

“That’s pretty complete,” I said.

 

“You asked, and you seem interested enough, not just walking past,” Yelly said.

 

“I’m a practicing writer,” I said. “The main rule of being a practicing writer is paying attention to what moves us.”

 

“And I moved you?” Yelly asked. “I’d better move you. I’m a look into the past and the future all in one day. You can see the solar system when you come here, the beginnings of life. This is no Mt. Rainier pile of rocks, or a Grand Canyon hole in the ground. I am proof of your existence and the future of your existence. Capeesh?”

 

“A little full of ourselves, aren’t we Yelly?” I said.

 

“Unlike you, my fullness is more than hot air,” she said.

 

“Yeah, you’ve got steam.”

 

“What was that?” Yelly snapped like a second grade teacher with a new ruler.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Good, that’s how I like it. Yellowstone Forever. Say it.”

 

“I get it.”

 

“Then say it.”

 

“Yellowstone forever.”

 

“Say it like you’ve got a pair.”

 

“That’s about enough.”

 

“SAY IT,” Yelly shouted just as Steamboat burped.

 

“YELLOWSTONE FOREVER,” I screamed, out of breath.

 

“I think I like you,” Yelly whispered.

 

“I like you too, Yelly.”