Upper Yosemite Falls and walkway through Meadow.
I miss Yosemite Valley. When I think of it, I think of the way the light falls, and the crispness of color, and the smell of pine trees and the sound of water rushing over rocks. I think of trails that go straight up until I have to bend over gasping and I think of sinking ankle deep into snow, lugging my camera on my back, and dodging tourists. Sitting at a picnic table and eating pizza, or rushing for the scrambled eggs at the buffet. Thumbing through prints in the Ansel Adams Gallery or stowing my toothpaste in a bear locker. It’s just a beautiful place and I’m more homesick for Curry Village than any other place I’ve rested my head.
