The

Americana Gallery

"Sierra Run II: America's Paradise"

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Tonight down here in the valley, I'm lonesome, and oh how I feel. As I sit here alone in my cabin, I can see your mansion on the hill. Do you recall when we parted? The story to me you revealed. You said you could live without love, dear, in your loveless mansion on the hill. I've waited all through the years, love. To give you a heart true and real. 'Cause I know you're living in sorrow. In your loveless mansion on the hill. The light shines bright from your window, the trees stand so silent and still. I know you're alone with your pride, dear, in your loveless mansion on the hill. Tonight down here in the valley, I'm lonesome, and oh how I feel. As I sit here alone in my cabin, I can see your mansion on the hill. The light shines bright from your window. The trees stand so silent and still. I know you're alone with your pride, dear. In your loveless mansion on the hill. In your loveless mansion on the hill. -Hank Williams

June arrives and with it comes an intense summer heat. Castles of snow tumble down mountainsides, painting the slopes with fingers of white. Would the snow pack of the Eastern Sierras hold or would it all melt away? It's a poor day for shooting, as I wind my way down the Kingsbury Grade. The Carson Valley floor is lined with haze, fed by the dust from a stiff mountain breeze. I stop in Jacks Valley and clutch to the rail of a small cement bridge. Wind-whipped waters of blue flow through a meadow, under the guard of snow speckled peaks. Jobs Peak stands like a mansion, towering above the grace of it all. It is a good shot, indeed. Someday, I shall live here. Someday, I shall have a mansion on that hill.