Once upon a time, I worked in Yellowstone National Park. It was 1987–just shy of forty years ago. Numbers are not my first language, so this is always something of a shock.
I digress.
Specifically, I worked at the Old Faithful Inn Gift Shop, where I invested a good portion of nearly every hour restoring and restocking. During quiet moments when the crowd exited the shop and regrouped on the boardwalk for an eruption, mountains of pillaged t-shirts needed refolding, and the great wall of postcards needed refilling.
Not that I’m opposed to gift shops. I frequent them myself. But when it comes to the Old Faithful Inn Gift Shop, I’m there for the sake of nostalgia.
Today’s postcard wall is smaller. Much smaller. This makes me sad.
I like postcards. They’re more than souvenirs. I have a stack of them–Yellowstone and otherwise–that I use to send short notes via the US Postal Service. Small but mighty, they’re heavy lifters. They can go way beyond the trite Wish you were here! They’re a way of seeing and sharing. With them, we can say Look at this place! and hint at why it matters to us, and why we hope it might matter to them.
While I write about Yellowstone, I don’t live anywhere near the park and rarely write while I’m there–making it a challenge to create a sense of place with my words.
As I started writing my next book, postcards have become part of my writing process. Along with creating a field guide of sensory experiences, composing a simple postcard about locations corresponding to a story helps me craft a sense of place that will usher readers into the Yellowstone experience. (I’ll be sharing postcards specific to my book–plus a look into my writing process–through Field Notes. You can follow along here.)
These postcards are small by design, composed to capture a moment. They aren’t meant to explain Yellowstone so much as sit with it.
And now, from me to you: A Postcard from Yellowstone.
Hi there! This is my favorite geyser: Great Fountain. Not only is it big and showy, but it’s predictable, too. With more than 12 hours between eruptions and a plus or minus 2-hour window, it’s often a quiet place. To experience it requires me to shed the habit of hurry and invites me to see it for what it is: a miracle, not a moment’s recreation. Waiting on its uncrowded boardwalk is a workshop in the fine art of anticipation. Maybe you’ll be able to witness an eruption one day. For now, enjoy the sunset behind the steam.
take heart & happy trails ~ Natalie 🥾
Want more insights from Yellowstone? Subscribe for postcards or lessons delivered to your inbox each month. Here’s the official National Park Service information about Great Fountain.