You come to love places in different ways. Some places reveal themselves slowly, rooting their way bit-by-bit into your heart, until you find you’ve fallen in love. Other places dazzle you and grip your heart from the first moment, leaving you breathless and at a loss for words. Yosemite was the latter. Driving there, you twist and turn around mountainside curves, which are perfectly lovely, but then suddenly the valley opens up before you and your heart is gone along with your ability to find adequate words.
Over the days we spent in Yosemite Valley, I often found myself standing in a meadow, staring up at the mountains that seem to rise up straight out of the valley floor, and wondering how there was still enough space for the sky to seem so big.