Ngorongoro, named for the sound of a Massai cow bell, is shrouded in imagination today. I sit bundled in my Airplane mode sweatshirt, hood pulled up and neck pillow acting as ear muffs holding me altogether. It is a blustery day in the crater.
Misting cloud-cover gently falls into the depth of the caldera as giraffes cross in front of us. Mist-ical and mysterious. There is a clarity to the early morning crispness both in temperature and sight as we descend beneath the ceiling.
A pile of lion babies playing on top of the moms in the far sandy grass until, with further investigation, they are having bfast. The moms on perimeter with babies feasting within and on top. Hyenas circling at a prudent distance.
The tentative sun breaks through and brightens the green hills at the far end. The clouds like rain, wisping and wafting, reach down in ribbons of softness.
Shadows of elephants on the horizon, regally marching in fours. Cory basterds with their rich layers of creamy grays and beige bringing up the rear. Side by side, side by side they move.
Pumbas, giant buffalos, crowned cranes ready for the derby, the gliding run of the gazelle: They are all grazing together in quiet harmony.
The living bearded wildebeests with their paint dripping back coloring are running, chasing, and talking loudly. The brilliant white egrets at their feet nonplussed and the trio of tiny browns chatting happily on their backs.
The salt sea with its no outlet, is fed by an underground lake sourced from the outside. It leaks into the grassland by spring fed fingers of refreshment. The pelicans are basking in its flowing. Their whiteness electric against the dim day.
There is a jungle area where we stop for a snack. It is lush and thick and the smell of fresh, cut minty freshness fills the air. The forest trees tower in lush clumps of randomness and tangle. We see a black leopard high on a tree branch…or is it? Then, there is an unmistakable, large male lion lounging on the dirt road sleeping through the mobbing Safari cars turning within feet of him.
We leave the forest for the plains. The clouds bounce and swirl atop the varied emeralds of the mountains blending seamlessly into the yellow brown grasses like a sloping beach to the water. There are scattered small hills, each with a tree on top. I want to run across,
I do love the trees but somehow I am completely enchanted by this vista.
What a day of glorious wonder.
June 20, 2026
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 