Caprock Canyons State Park is a little known but majestic expanse of land, a hiker's paradise with sun dancing on the canyons' magnificent, gypsum-skirted red sandstone rock formations. The canyons fall some thousand feet below the flat expanse of the Llano Estacado in a dramatic display of erosion. As you stand on the rim and look across miles of red hoodoos, clefts and mesas cutting and rising and tumbling above green mesquite and greener juniper, you feel time as strongly as you feel the sun baking your shoulders to a crisp and trying to get past your hat to burn your scalp. Sun and rock and erosion. Over. And over. And over again.
One day, my favorite hoodoo will fall and this landscape will look different. But the sun will rise to warm newly uncovered rock as it erodes into view. Maybe someone else will paint that new hoodoo.

Standing in the dry riverbed, looking up, permanence and impermanence dance before your eyes in a wavy haze of heat. And somehow, that feels good. Solid. Like a bridge back and forth through time, with all its changes.