Right before our long fall ended and winter began, we had one glorious day of 60 degree weather and sunshine, clear blue skies and only the slightest breeze. The Johnson family and I went out to Falling Rock along Hwy. 44 west of Rapid City to get family pictures. What a beautiful spot! Junipers and pine, expansive views, rock outcroppings, and golden sunlight.
The Johnsons are a special family to me, for a number of reasons. We all go to the same church and share sweet fellowship with our fellow brothers and sisters there on a weekly basis. Dave is my boss, and what a joy it has been to work for a brother in Christ. His wife Teresa is a dear friend of mine and I look up to her very much as my sister in Christ. They have raised a wonderful family, and all six of them have such a love for their Savior.
I love taking portraits of couples who have been married for more than 20 years. What a testimony a strong marriage is to our good God! I have shot a few weddings and young couples, but I really think I enjoy the longer-married couples the best, even if it is just a handful of pictures in the middle of a family photoshoot. There is a unity and belonging there, a beautiful blending of two souls, a true sense of companionship born of time and hardship and joy. 
Siblings. Another one of God’s greatest gifts. They are the first friends we ever have and hopefully are always the friends we hold the closest and keep the longest! Homeschoolers really do have it the best, in this regard. Day in and day out, we share life with our siblings. It isn’t optional, when your siblings are your classmates, your roommates, your playdates, your partners in crime….etc. 
God has gifted the Johnson family in so many ways, individually as well as familially. Not only are they good natured and personable and pleasant, but they have been gifted with skills and talents which they share generously with others. They enjoy and share their musical abilities, their creative talents, their hospitality, their medical skills and training, and literally share their home and and their lives. They’re also quite the handsome family. And wow, the Johnson women have gorgeous eyes. But all of that – their talents, their skills, their hospitality and personalities and giving – really would be nothing, except for the beauty of Christ in them, individually as well as as a family.
The hike to the mill itself was one long gentle slope up – About 30 minutes from the trailhead. It was hot out, and the shade around the mill was welcome. The old mill still stands tall and erect against the side of a taller hill. The sheet metal siding has come off in places, or swings loose in the wind. Rickety flights of stairs still span floor to floor.
The hike to the mines was another climb, boasting beautiful views of Harney Peak in the distance, over a rolling sea of pine trees. Such wonderful country – I still have to pinch myself.
We could smell the mines before we could see the tunnels. The musty, earthy damp mixed with the warm, resiny perfume of the pines, and we could feel the seep of cool mine air as we approached the entrances to the mine, which loomed black in the steep, rough walls of rock. The sheer size of some of the digs was astounding, from the towering walls of open cuts and gaping mouths of air shafts, to the vaulting and cavernous ceilings inside the mine, to places where the ceiling had caved in years ago, leaving just enough space to crouch and scramble through.
The meager glow of our flashlights and lanterns seemed swallowed up in the dark of the tunnels, glistening on damp walls, sparkling dully in pools and trickles of water, occasionally revealing old pieces of machinery from the bygone mining days. Cart track still spanned some of the tunnels, and rotted support beams tottered in the openings.
Little ferns grew at the mouths of a couple of the mine tunnels, transparent green against the bright sunlight outside. Pigeons nested in the sheltering cliffs above one of the open cuts.
Sarah and William and I went back yesterday, and picnicked in the shade of the cliffs. Trixie came along again – She is becoming quite the hiking buddy! When we stopped for lunch, she begged pieces of our lunch and bites of apple, then fell sound asleep while we sat and talked and poked around in the piles of mica.
The Hills conceal a treasure trove of history, history that is as tangible and real as the damp of stone beneath my fingers, or the rough, rotting wood of an ancient structure. The remnants of bygone days are scattered liberally throughout the Black Hills – If you know where to look.
Song Dog Journal 