For many reasons, Bristlecone pines are sacred to me. I don't go to Bristlecone groves just to make pictures. Mostly, I go there for spiritual inspiration. The
White Mountain groves are the most sacred of all to me. They are home to "Methuselah," the Earth's oldest living inhabitant. At more than 4,700 years old,
this venerable Bristlecone spans a history that is beyond the comprehension of most mortal beings.

Bristlecones spurn the easy lifestyle of milder climates. They grow only at high elevations where winters are cold and long, growing seasons are short and the
soil is thin. From this harsh environment they eke out a life that persists for eons. At first glance, many of them appear to be dead. But, closer observation reveals
life at the end of the branches. Bristlecones don't waste energy on verdant displays. Instead they conserve and persevere. That sure is a lot to think about, isn't it?

In the 1970s, I was part of a band which took the name of Bristlecone. "Bristlecone" wasn't really a good name for a band, but it represented the principles which
we embraced and we took it as a reminder to try to remain true to those values in a world of excesses. This photo and the following two are my humble offerings
to the sacred Bristlecones. I dedicate them to my Bristlecone brothers. They know who they are.