Looking Through the Window of Time

Holy City of the Wichitas | Wichita Mountains, Oklahoma

View through the wall of the Holy City of the Wichitas

There are places that ask to be photographed.

Then there are places that ask you to stop, stand quietly, and simply look.

The Holy City of the Wichitas is one of those places.

Nestled against the rugged granite slopes of Oklahoma's Wichita Mountains, the weathered stone structures have stood for nearly a century. Built during the Great Depression by the Civilian Conservation Corps and the Works Progress Administration, the site was created as the backdrop for an annual Easter Passion Play. Today, its stone walls and narrow passageways remain long after the crowds have gone home, quietly blending into the landscape that surrounds them.

As I wandered through the empty courtyards, I wasn't searching for a specific photograph. I was simply exploring.

Then I noticed one of the small stone openings in the wall.

Instead of photographing the building itself, I stepped closer and looked through the opening. Suddenly, the landscape beyond became the subject. The rough granite stones framed a living scene of cedar trees, native grasses, and distant hills gathering beneath darkening clouds.

It felt less like looking through a window and more like looking through time.

The stone walls represent human hands—our desire to build, preserve, and remember.

Beyond the opening stands a landscape that has changed very little over countless generations. Long before these stones were stacked together, bison wandered these valleys, Native American tribes called these mountains home, and the granite cliffs quietly watched the passing centuries.

The photograph became more than an image of a historic structure.

It became a reminder that while our works eventually weather and fade, creation continues to tell its story.

As photographers, we're often tempted to focus on the obvious subject. Sometimes the better image is found by changing our perspective. Instead of looking at something, we learn to look through it.

That small opening in the wall became a frame—not only for the landscape but for a different way of seeing.

One of the greatest gifts photography has given me is the ability to slow down. The camera has taught me that beauty rarely announces itself. It waits patiently for those willing to pause, observe, and notice.

This photograph is a reminder that every journey offers more than a destination. Sometimes the most meaningful discoveries come when we stop looking for the grand vista and begin paying attention to the quiet details along the way.

Over the next four weeks, I'll be sharing photographs and stories from my journey through the Wichita Mountains—rugged landscapes, incredible wildlife, historic places, and unforgettable moments beneath Oklahoma skies. I hope you'll come along.

Through My Lens

As I stood behind that weathered stone wall, I couldn't help but think of the words of the psalmist:

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork." — Psalm 19:1 (ESV)

Sometimes God's handiwork is revealed in sweeping mountain vistas.

Sometimes it is found through a small opening in an old stone wall.

Either way, the invitation is the same:

Slow down.

Look carefully.

Wonder.

Because the world has far more to say than we often take the time to hear.

Every photograph tells a story.

Some reveal breathtaking landscapes. Others capture fleeting moments in the lives of wild creatures. All of them invite us to slow down, look closer, and rediscover the wonder woven throughout God's creation.

Thanks for joining me on the journey.

I'll see you down the next backroad.