Anytime I see a mesa like this, a table-top from which a rider can watch, I imagine a Native American warrior, sitting at the edge on a paint pony, watching. I read way too many Zane Gray novels as a kid. But then, I grew up in Indian country on the high Kansas plains and their spirits roamed the hills. This particular shot is from the Painted Desert in Arizona. The place stunningly beautiful. Every square inch of it.