animals-on-counters (134) art (27) Baby J (28) backway Nevada (7) beneath the blue (125) chasing antelope (31) EBR photography (18) farm-a-cation (40) fences make (25) gods of glass and other broken things (89) grade 8 (5) history for history haters (25) holiday magic (48) hot springs (13) houses of straw (23) Idaho (3) knee deep (22) Life With Man by mlb (6) math (5) meanwhile down in the science lab (14) our 7th Grade (14) pegma (52) quiet down in front (184) right where I left it (28) seconds (73) signs of life (182) SLC (121) taming venus (6) the back forty (41) the keeping room (2) the life and times of Little Giants (142) the lunch line (3) the school house rocks (132) the wood shop (11) urban intersections (117) village life (205) way out west (122) weekending (180) wild west Utah (41) words of a barefoot cowboy (3) world history (4)
Monday, January 15, 2018
Saturday, January 13, 2018
But we kept driving.
Out of our way- but not really because this is our way.
It is our family culture. It is what keeps us, us.
We saw a wind farms rising out of the fog outside Milford, Utah.
We pulled over to watch a golden eagle eat.
We sopped here again. Caliente
Our way ended out here like this: the edge of route 93.
Salt Lake, Cove Fort, Enoch, Milford, Modena (UT), Panaca, Caliente, Ash Springs, Alamo, Coyote Springs, Las Vegas (NV)
Time to get down to work....
Good luck in LV Little Giants of GTC!
Monday, January 8, 2018
Until she arrived to compete at the end of day 2.
To My Daughter who hasn't bothered to take her 1st place medals out of her gym bag. Who spent the day with Sophie (who is on crutches) navigating the slick sideways of The Gateway to catch a Sunday matinee movie. Who in the night admitted she is tired of hurting. Tired of pain that takes her breath away.
Dear Daughter, there is a moment of quiet before every storm. I have never seen it more clearer than on that mountain that day. The highest mountain I will ever dare to climb- the bravest I have ever been. A moment of beauty so pure it has no sound to speak of. Dark clouds hanging on a horizon pulled into the valley by warm wingless winds. Clouds of dry lightening by summer; ashy rain by winter's lungs. They drive towards the mountain crowning the peaks before encasing them in stormy mist. The beauty is followed by power; graceful and destructive. Vital and wild; life sustaining.
You are on top of your mountain. You are in the storm right now. It's okay to come in out of the rain. And it's okay to stay out in a little longer. It has always been up to you.