{"id":3160,"date":"2021-10-18T07:15:14","date_gmt":"2021-10-18T11:15:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/?p=3160"},"modified":"2021-10-18T08:25:45","modified_gmt":"2021-10-18T12:25:45","slug":"altered-horizons-22","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/altered-horizons-22\/","title":{"rendered":"Altered Horizons 22"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-3161 size-large\" title=\"Altered Horizons 22 Robin Botie of Ithaca, New York, photoshops a fabricated landscape of rocks and stones in her dealing with grief and loss and depression.\" src=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821-683x1024.jpg\" alt=\"Altered Horizons 22 Robin Botie of Ithaca, New York, photoshops a fabricated landscape of rocks and stones in her dealing with grief and loss and depression.\" width=\"683\" height=\"1024\" data-popupalt-original-title=\"null\" srcset=\"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821-683x1024.jpg 683w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821-200x300.jpg 200w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821-768x1152.jpg 768w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821-600x900.jpg 600w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821-624x936.jpg 624w, https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/AH22Post101821.jpg 960w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 683px) 100vw, 683px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 12pt;\">At University Sand and Gravel in Brooktondale, NY, there were mountains and mountains of rocks. Scooped up and lifted onto conveyor belts, rocks and stones were sorted and then dropped into huge piles. Walking around them on a hot sunny day, I was reminded of how my grief had felt: endless, heavy, hard, cold. Pummeling. My thoughts turned to mining accidents and death by avalanche. But there was also something jolly about the intermingling of the almost-blue momma-bear, poppa-bear, and baby-bear sized boulders. I imagined a moonscape.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>At University Sand and Gravel in Brooktondale, NY, there were mountains and mountains of rocks. Scooped up and lifted onto conveyor belts, rocks and stones were sorted and then dropped into huge piles. Walking around them on a hot sunny day, I was reminded of how my grief had felt: endless, heavy, hard, cold. Pummeling. 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