Give Thanks...For Another Winter Night In Garland

 I'd most likely heard of Garland, Utah before we moved, but I wasn't sure I knew where it was. I'm sure back in the day Garland was independent ,with a buffer of fields and roads separating it from the other communities in the area. It's no longer the case. Like so many communities, the line where one town ends and another begins is defined by a road, or a fence. On one side, the mail is delivered to one town listed on the envelope, on the other side of the street/fence, the town  listed on the mail is something else.

Even in this little valley.

By the time we arrived, Garland blends into Tremonton to the south. I'm not exactly sure where that line is, but I know the high school is in Garland, and by the time you hit Kents Grocery Store, you're in Tremonton.

So, when I snapped a picture of a beautiful full moon on a crisp winter night, from my perspective it hung directly over the small, quaint hamlet of Garland.

The landscapes are different here. It's been a while since we lived in a valley, having lived for decades on a hillside with a narrow valley separating one mountain range and a large lake. Everything was condensed, mashed, crammed in...homes, businesses, roads, parks, even trails. If you stay in your home and never venture out, you don't feel the outside world encroaching, but once you leave, it surrounds you.

I'm thankful to live in such an amazing place. I'm thankful for the people and for the land. I've fallen in love with the views, the openness, the fields where one day hundreds and thousands of homes will rise from the ground proving sanctuary for those inside.

But for now, a full moon shines below a valley, sparsely dotted with homes and farms and families...all praying for a safe night.

People...TAKE DOWN Your Signs!

 It was wishful thinking, really. I should have known it's not yet Yard Sale Season, especially since we're getting major winter storms blow through the valley. Still, I thought I'd drive by the Yard Sale Sign monument in town to see if anyone was brave enough to try and unload their unwantables.

I pulled up to the power box, located in the northern section of the Kent's Grocery Store/Zions Bank parking lot. The locals (us included...) know that power box is where people put up signs letting the world know where, and hopefully when, the yard sales are taking place. It's our "public square."

The weathered sign should have told me the sign had been there a while.

Nope...I decided to take a chance and see if the indoor yard sale was on. I drove the five or so miles to the address and there was no indoor yard sale or outdoor yard sale or no sale of any kind. The drive wasn't a total loss, however...

On my way, I passed a building, an old house long forgotten by time. I thought it might make a good picture so when the yard sale was a bust, I turned around and stopped by the house. It's a little hard to see, but the front room and porch are filled with wood. The former home is now just a place to store lumber. I took a few shots and I'd like to take more another time. I must say, the gray sky matched the desolate scene wonderfully.

People...take down your yard sale signs when the sale is over! Then again, if they had, I'd have missed out on a great photo.

Rules For Diving Into Donuts...The Pie Dump

 We have family visiting, which means, among other things, we've been eating out..

A lot.

There's a local eatery called The Pie Dump that we just had to take our out-of-town family to--they had to experience it. Yesterday I posted a picture of my daughter and a sweet role she bought. It was, in a word, huge. 

I noticed something as we left. On the wall were the rules of a contest...an eating contest...a contest that is called...

Diving Into Donuts.

Here are the rules:

The participant must give us permission to take photos and videos and post them on our Facebook page.

Challenger buys 6 doughnuts.

Challenger has employee or owner set timer.

Challenger gobbles doughnuts as quickly as possible.

If the challenger has time quicker than pervious WINNER their name is added to the top of the winner board and money is refunded.

I'm not a big eater, but I have respect for those who are. I don't know either Bryan McLaughlin or Tytan Allred, but I salute you both.

Maybe my kids will one day take the dive. Maybe not. It's fun to see a small local diner have some fun.

Anyone Want To Buy...The Pie Dump?

 I've only eaten there less than half a dozen times. It is the very definition of a small-town eatery. It's called The Pie Dump...

And It's For Sale.

I think you should buy it.

Of course, when I say "you," I'm not speaking to anyone specific. I could be talking to "me" when I say "you." Personally, I think buying a local institution would be extremely challenging, but also rewarding. If you bought it, would you change things? Would you keep things the same so the locals will still continue to come in?

Or, would you tear it down and put in a strip mall for insurance companies and mattress dealers to set up shop?

The area where I live is growing and is expected to explode in the next couple of years. People need places to eat up here. I think we would have eaten more at The Pie Dump but it's only open for breakfast and lunch. Still, even a place that does not serve dinner will be missed if it were to go away permanently. 

I'm sure much of the charm of the place comes from the family that runs it. When they go, no matter how much the new owners try to make it stay the same, it can't. Non-chain restaurants owe their uniqueness, in part, to their owners.

I have no idea what will happen to The Pie Dump. I do know it won't be me that buys it. I hope that whatever happens, people will be please with the results.

What Garland Utah Looked Like...On A Beautiful Sunday Morning

 Usually, when I pull up to the historic Tabernacle in Garland, Utah, I park on the north side of the street. That way, after the meeting, I can leave the church and hop in my car. The car is already aimed in the right direction...I get home a split-second earlier.

But, last Sunday, parking spots on the north side of the street were occupied by earlier-arriving parishioners and I parked across the street...car faced away from the house so I'd get home a split-second later.

No big deal.

The meeting over, I left the building before the clock struck noon. Of course, I looked both directions before entering the street. I looked again halfway across. 

I actually stopped as I reached the center line.

And I snapped a couple of pictures.

As you can see, I probably didn't need to look both ways either before stepping onto the road or while crossing it...not many cars on this particular road just before noon last Sunday.

For most of my life, I attended another beautiful old church built by pioneers and pioneer stock. There's also a road running through the town right next to the church, only I would almost never stop in the middle of that road...too many cars no matter what time of day.

What you see in these two pictures is from the quaint hamlet of Garland, Utah. It makes the small town where we live look big by comparison. Though much has changed since the church was built around a century ago, much has stayed the same. As I stood in the middle of the road taking out my phone and capturing the views looking due east and due west, I realized just how beautiful were the views I saw.

And I wanted others to see them, too.

Gotta Support The Home Team...

 I've been searching for a certain article of clothing at our local thrift stores for a while. It's how I usually find things. I'll get it in my mind of what I want, then whenever we're near a thrift store, we'll go in and check to see if it's there.

I won't say now what that article of clothing is, but I will let you know if/when I find one (and one in my size...). Needless to say, the last time we went I did not find what I was looking for, but I found something else, a shirt emblazoned with the logo of the local high school's track team.

The Bear River Bears Track Team.

I thought it would be a good idea to pick it up.

I'm glad I did.

People around here are pretty loyal to the local school. It feels like it did when I attended Dear Ol' Davis High School. Back then, there were actual demarkations between Centerville (Viewmont), Farmington/Fruit Heights/Kaysville (Davis), and Layton (Layton). We were pretty proud to be Darts (still am...). Those to the south were proud to be Vikings, and to the north, Lancers. I know it's silly, but that's how it felt. When we left Davis County, there's almost no distinctions between those cities, and now Farmington has its own high school. I'm sure there are proud Phoenix there now.

I've worn the new shirt a lot. I wear it around town, and even though I have absolutely no connection to the school. Still, it makes me feel part of the community and maybe--even though people here have no idea who I am nor have they ever seen me before--I'm more accepted.

I was thinking, as I thought about this particular post, I have NO shirts or clothing bearing the Davis High or Dart logo. Living on the same street where I grew up I never needed to let people know where I attended. Maybe, I should have--when perusing the thrift stores in Davis County--picked up a shirt or jacket that told the world I attended Davis High School. In fact, having a Davis High Track shirt would be pretty cool.

Small-Town Treasures...The Main

 Friday, an e-mail arrived notifying those in my neighborhood that snow needed to be shoveled at our local church. 

It was our turn.

That afternoon I loaded up the snow shovel in the back of Donk, the Subaru and drove the approximately three miles to the building. When I got there, most of the snow had already been cleared. I did help out a little bit. As I stowed the shovel in the car after my light shoveling, I looked east. That's when I saw The Main Theater.

Incredible!

As I get older, I'm a sucker for old things, old cars, old buildings, things with history. You can almost see it in the cracks, the faded paint, the rust and decay. Still...beautiful. At first, I didn't know what the building was. Upon second glance, I realized it was an abandoned movie theater. Single-screen theaters are as obsolete as eight-track tape players. Before last year, theaters were still a billion-dollar industry. I imagine their future is unknown at this time.

I walked over to it and took a few pictures. According to the internet, the theater opened in 1950 and closed in 1985...a thirty-five-year run. I so wanted to go inside, but at the same time, I would have hated to see abandoned dreams in entertainment form.

I remember reading of an Oscar-winning director who grew up in the same town as me. He talked about seeing films in the old church. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Though I never saw films in that church, I did peek through the small windows through which the films he saw were shown. He talked about how watching films, how those experiences affected his life. As I drove away from The Main, I wondered what life-long memories were formed by those who passed through those doors, who sat in those chairs, who watched the illusion of motion on the large silver screen.

And now, like an old tractor or harvester that died in the field, it sits waiting for nature to reclaim what it once was. I'm falling in love with this valley, and The Main is another of the small-town treasures sealing the deal.