Valentine’s Day
February 14, 2019
Dear Yellowstone:
What is it about you that started this love affair, and keeps drawing me back to you?
Was it the first time I watched the wolves and their pups at Slough Creek? I remember the tears as I looked through that spotting scope. Those wolves seemed almost right there. That was the first time I watched wolves NOT in a movie, on television or in a photograph. This was real. It was alive and raw. Observing the yearlings playing with the new pups, watching as those little guys tumbled over each other, falling down the little rise from their den, I remember thinking . . . this is how it should be.
Perhaps I fell in love with you as I watched the old bison matriarch lead the other moms with all the new calves down to the Lamar River. It was time for them to learn to swim.
I laughed as so many of the calves seemed to have this look of “Ahhh, maybe not!” as they turned from going in, right at the water’s edge.
I loved watching them—one-by-one—make the commitment, with coaxing from the moms, to go down into the water. I recall my fear for some as they were swiftly carried downstream in the fast-moving water. 
I was so excited to see their obvious joy as they finally got a foothold after “bison paddling” to reach higher ground, then running back to the moms, kicking up their back legs, as if to say “I did it! I did it!”
Possibly it was as I listened to the Meadowlark making his way around his territory telling all that it is his.
Maybe it was the early morning fog and the sun rising through the mist as I watched the lone Bald Eagle in the tall tree across the river.
Watching.
Is it the magic of the brief growing season, as it moves from the brown grass and white snow . . .
into the lush green valleys of spring. Then, to the fields of wildflowers everywhere in summer.
Returning once again to brown grasses as I leave at the end of September.
Perhaps I fell in love with you the first time I walked up Observation Hill. 
I remember looking down on the Old Faithful Geyser going off, hearing the hand-clapping and raucous cheers of the crowds gathered from all over the world.
Possibly it was as I made my way across the hill, through the forest in the early morning quiet. I recall the only sound being the birds and critters of the forest, along with the sound of the breeze in the pines. I laughed as the little Red Squirrel ran all the way across the downed log right up to me—scolding me all the way—for being in “his” forest.
Perhaps I fell in love with you upon entering for the first time that “Sentinel of the Valley,” the Old Faithful Inn. 
Now I love watching as other first-time visitors’ mouths drop as they look up, up, up the seven stories of the Inn. 
I love the joy I feel as I see their amazement when I explain that this astounding feat of engineering and architecture, this beautiful old building, is over 114 years old.
What draws me back to you?
A big part of it is being reunited with the “family” of friends and co-workers who obviously love this amazing place as much as I do.
I’m not quite sure what draws me back to you, but I do know this. On any given day, something magical and extraordinary always seems to appear that intrigues me. 
I fall in love with you again every morning as I see Old Faithful going off through the trees walking over to breakfast in the Village. 
Watching as the sun rises through the mist with my heart feeling so full it could burst with joy and the overwhelming feeling of how blessed I am to LIVE in Yellowstone National Park for five months every summer.
