Canyon's Halo
You can't plan for moments like this. I was set up at the edge of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, the cold so sharp it felt like it had a physical weight. The air was completely still, and the only sound was the crunch of my boots in the deep powder. I was just watching the shadows stretch when the air itself started to glow. Tiny ice crystals, like diamond dust, began to catch the low sun, and this perfect sun dog formed right in the middle of the canyon. It wasn't a big, dramatic sunrise; it was something quieter, more delicate. It felt like the canyon was sharing a secret, and I was just lucky enough to be there to see it.
Winter in Yellowstone is often overcast and grey, so those clear, bitterly cold mornings feel especially magical. Ice crystals hang in the air, and the light interacts with them in a way that’s hard to describe until you see it. We were watching for the elusive “beam” that appears only under the right conditions. Here, you can see it faintly at the top of the lower tangent of the 22-degree arc created by the sun.