What I See...When I Look East

I have lived—off and on—on the same street for half a century. When you live in the same place for that long, you get used to the view. What we see looking west is incredible, the sunsets, the storm rolling in, but the mountains to the east are incredible, too—sometimes more so.

Tonight, the mountain displayed its autumn colors, not as brilliant as other years, but beautiful none the less. Ever since I was a little kid, there’s been some rock formations I’ve identified—they look like things to me. Maybe you’ll see them too, maybe not. That’s okay. We all see things differently.

Here’s what I saw tonight, and what I’ve seen so many times in the last five decades.

First...well, there’s Flag Rock. We have an excellent view of the formation. What impresses me most is that for a few miles north or south, if you’re at a certain elevation, Flag Rock rises like a huge stone pimple on the mountain face. It’s something many Farmingtonites know, like a stone lighthouse hundreds of feet above.

The next thing I see is what I think looks like an old football helmet. I call it the Football Helmet Rock Formation (original, I know...). The flat surface must be a shear wall, and big. I can’t see anything else when I look at it.

Then, there’s the rock formation above Patsy’s Mine. I’ve heard from many that the mine’s now sealed up. I’m sure they have their reasons for doing this and to them, the reasons are good. To me, I’m sad to know hundreds—maybe even thousands of kids—will no longer have the thrill of seeing just how deep they can venture into the mine before turning back.

There’s a couple of other things I see. A little south of those three I can spot what looks like an old craggy face. It wasn’t until the Harry Potter films came along that I realized the rock looks like a hat-less Sorting Hat. Still, it’s always had that crooked smile I love.

A little down from the face is another face. This time I see what could be a face—maybe a George Washington face—in the mountain. The eye socket and nose are definitely there.

And last, the hill is covered with huge fields of rocks, places where bigger rocks succumbed to nature and have gathered together. It’s hard to see from this angle, but I always thought this lower rock field looks like a running dog, some sort of terrier.

There’s so much I’m going to miss when we pack up and drive away later this week. This mountain and the things I see is definitely one of them.

You Turn Around, Then...BOOM! The Mountains Have Exploded With Green

We live at the base of a mountain. It's not necessarily a very high mountain, by Rocky Mountain standards. And, for most of the year, it's not particularly pretty. In fact, a lot of the year it's kind of....blagh. 

Except for a few weeks in spring when it's green.

The other times when it's pretty is in the fall, of course. But, that's just selected areas of the mountain that turn incredible shades of color. Then, naturally, when the entire mountain is blanketed with new snow...to me, that when the mountain is the most spectacular.

Between the time when the mountain is all white and when it turns green, it's ugly, and unfortunately, it's a long time between white and green. Today was a beautiful day. I looked up at the hill and I saw green...vibrant, brilliant, faith-renewing green. And, it almost seems to happen overnight, even thought I know it takes longer.

If you're in the area, you'd better hurry to catch our little mountain in its arboreal splendor. Then, once the grasses start to pale due to lack of rain, the mountain begins to look the way it does most of the year. Yes, it's pretty outside.

Hiking...With A Cat And The Moon

Yesterday, after dinner, the cat and I took a little hike. We are fortunate enough to live at the base of a mountain--not the highest mountain around, but high enough, and where we live, we can't see the top. Yesterday, as it has happened in the past, our cat followed me up the hill.

A nearly full moon rose above the mountain line and I snapped a few pictures. I also tried capturing the cat as he followed me. Cat's a wily one, and he's getting over a battle wound. I took a few shots.

Of course, the purpose of going up is to see the world below. The sky wasn't the prettiest, nor was it in full sunset mode, but it was beautiful up there, looking down on the valley, at my home, at a place where I grew up and that has changed so much.

Here's just a snippet of what I saw, the valley, the cat, and the moon.

There's A Fire On The Mountain...This Time, It's Not Our Mountain

Because of social media, we can instantly be informed of events around the block or around the world. This afternoon news hit of a mountain fire located a few miles to the north of us. It's been a windy day and wind, hot weather, and tall weeds equals potential loss of property, or worse.

Believe me--I know what those people living near the fire are going through.

We lived it twice, once in 2003, and again ten years later in 2013.

The last couple of years the western United States have been on fire. Two summers ago we drove to Seattle to attend my nephew's wedding. Oregon was ablaze; Washington State was, too. Near Portland they closed the interstate. Fortunately, we turned off before the road was closed, but on the way home from the wedding, the smoke was so thick in some areas, it was difficult to see even a few hundred feet ahead.

This year (and maybe it's because I have been so busy and not paying attention to other stuff...) it feels like it hasn't been a bad fire season. Until recently, that is. In the space of a couple of weeks, there's been several fires close to where we live. Luckily for us, we've not had one hit above our home since 2013.

Because I was blogging in 2013, I blogged about that and posted several pictures of the event. You can access that particular blog post by clicking: HERE. Having a fire so close to home is both terrifying and amazing. Everything--everything--smells like smoke. Even your clothes inside the house smells like smoke days later, but at night, the scene is so surreal watching the mountain burn. The 2013 fire was nowhere near as big as the 2003 fire. That one was huge. Thankfully, no homes were lost in either one.

Like anything, living on the side of a hill comes with positives and negatives. Sure, the views are incredible, but mountainside fires usually don't threaten valley homes and then there's the potential for mudslides caused by the burned vegetation. Pros and cons in everything.

I don't know the status of the latest blaze as I write this. The wind died down in this afternoon and it looked like it might rain, but then the wind picked up again so it could be much much worse than it was earlier. The forecast calls for rain tomorrow. We're all praying it's right. No, mountain fires are something no one wants, but when they happen, we deal with them and the aftermath. I guess it's just part of life.

This time, it happened a few miles north. A couple of weeks ago, the fire was a few miles to the south. I wonder if in 2023 we'll have another one on our mountain. I sure hope not.

Hiking With A Kid...And A Cat

My youngest and I were outside this afternoon and I spotted a small sign up on the mountain, not high up, but high enough I couldn't tell what the sign said. We decided to take a break and hike up to it to see what it said.

Turns out it had but a single work:

FLAG

Due to some recent construction, the trailhead to Flag Rock has moved. Due to the signs, we all know now where to start.

On our little excursion, we had an additional family member join us--one of our cats. I know many a kid who has hiked the mountain with their trusty dog by their side. In all my years living on the hill, I've never seen a cat join anyone for a hike. My son asked if our cat would follow us when we started up. I told him he probably would because the cat's followed me before.

We've had incredible skies of late so I snapped a few pictures, and if cats could take selfies, he'd probably like how the above picture turned out.

It's not everyday we head up on the hill. I suppose we should go more. And if we do and our cat's on the prowl, there's a good chance we'll once again have another team member join us on our hike.

Not All Greens Are Created Equal...

Yesterday, as our Mother's Day dinner cooked on the grill, I looked directly east, up at the mountain. This is the view I see as I leave the house every day. It's a view I've seen since my family bought a cherry and apricot orchard back in 1969.

I love this view.

Of course, there are times during the year when the view is prettier than others. Spring (now...) is great, so is autumn. I think winter's my favorite with everything covered in snow. But as I gazed upward yesterday, I took a couple of pictures because rarely is it this green.

Of course, something being green is relative. My friends Clif and Jenn live in Washington State. I visited them in 2006--my one and only time in the Northwest--and I was blown away. I'd been told they have a lot of trees in the Seattle area, but even knowing this, I could not have imagined how incredibly green it is. They carve canyons through the trees where they put roads, like driving through a carpet of vegetation. It was, in a word, beautiful.

I live in Utah, not Washington State. I used to think we had trees where I live, and we do, but nothing compared to where my friends live.

But even Washington State might come in second when it comes to being green like some places in Europe, specifically Denmark. I lived there for a couple of years back in the 1980s, and I saw shades and colors of green I've never seen anywhere else. Some were so bright, they were almost neon. Denmark doesn't have the trees like the Pacific Northwest, but the climate allows so many amazing plants to grow. Seeing Denmark in the spring is simply amazing, pure and simple.

In a few weeks the greens above us on the mountain will fade and turn tan and most of the vibrant green with disappear until next year. Since we technically live in a desert, that's the way it is and we who live here accept it. I suppose if I had to be surrounded by green, I'd have to move.

Once the harsh heat of summer subsides, the leaves will turn, and the mountain will be covered with reds and oranges. Seeing those colors--for me--is like an award for surviving the--for me--extreme heat of summers we endure.

Then comes the snow, and the mountains are reborn in white, my favorite thing.

For now, however, I'll enjoy the green, for a few weeks, anyway.