Sunday, June 07, 2009

Falling.


It’s been one of those weekends to remember, the first camping trek of summer (and, to be sure, the first of a half-planned many). I am too sunburnt and sore and worn out to wax very poetic about it. To be truthful, I am doing this from my bed and, even now, I can feel everything in my being practically urging me to shut out the light already. My eyes are slits.

I did, however, want to give a very brief rundown. Let’s see how far I get.

There were a few dips in the Mystic Hot Springs in Monroe, the ones owned by a Colorado native hippy (and his four old, but friendly dogs) who makes sure the hot water running into the five or six actual bathtubs have the right level of heat to go with them. Camped out in a nearby field that night and easily found the Big Dipper. Walked all over Bryce Canyon and hiked down into some of the most amazing rock structures I’ve seen in some time (though I don’t suggest ever doing in jeans). Made it to Escalante after a good lot of driving around and camped on what amounted to incredibly soft beach sand at Calf Creek, within earshot of said creek, no less. In the morning, there was an immediate hike to the 126-foot nearby falls. Would that it were a warmer day so that some swimming could have happened. Instead, we marveled and pondered and shot a few photos that will likely never do it proper justice.

You know, there was a time not more than two weeks ago that I clambered into a friend’s hammock in his beautiful back yard, not far from another nearby creek. I looked into the sun through the leaves of the trees that surrounded me on that Sunday afternoon for a long time. Somewhere inside those moments, I felt as if I were being hugged by God. That’s the best way I can explain it. To be exposed to that sort of beauty ... it practically knocked me clean off my hammock. I hung onto that feeling for as long as I could.

This weekend, there were moments like that. They came when I saw the full moon come out last night amongst the red rocks. It happened as I stared at the baby trout in a river as clear as glass. And almost every time I looked at the huge stacks and rows of clouds—fickle storms fill them right up and make them impossibly gorgeous—I tapped into that emotion.

I even felt that way once more as I walked down a street this early evening and smelled the perfume of a recent rainstorm. I simply could not breathe deep enough.

This old world is a beauty, she really is. I am thankful for the eyes to see it, smell it, experience it and taste it. I’m so incredibly glad she exists to be discovered and appreciated.

4 comments:

heather said...

thank you.

that's all, just thanks.

SJ said...

Who do you go with on your treks? Do you go by yourself? A photog? Great pic, btw.

Hope you don't mind, I listed your blog on the http://www.utahnewssource.com Media Directory under Utah Bloggers

Dainon. said...

There's always some small group of somebodies ready to visit The Great Outdoors. There were a group of four of us this time around ...

greenatty said...

"..perfume of a recent rainstorm...I simply could not breathe deep enough."

thanks for reminding me that the greatest treasures/joys in life can sometimes be found right outside our doors--whether they lead to a city or wilderness..

cheers

ps. after reading your entry and then noting you titled it "falling" -- coulnd't help but start singing Angus&Julia Stone's Wasted..