I Miss The Sun Setting Behind A Mountain...

I went driving last night, at sunset, with my son. As he drove on a small country road, the sun set behind the western mountains...

It was beautiful.

Something I miss.

I have been blessed almost my entire life to see one of the most amazing sights witnessed by humans...sunsets, but not just any sunsets. For decades I lived on the eastern slope of a mountain. From that height, we watched the sun set behind Antelope Island...not the highest mountain, but high enough. I took picture after picture of those sunsets, and when photography went digital, I went nuts.

Thousands of photos of sunsets from my house on a dead-end street.

We moved to another hill. Now we're on the north side of a smaller mountain and to the west of us we have...

Homes...

We still get amazing sunsets, many of which I have photographed, but there's something about having a natural boundary behind which the sun sets. It's special. It's the way God intended.

As we drove last night, I took out my phone and I snapped a couple of pictures. I miss mountains and sunsets. They're a wonderful combination. I've been blessed to have seen thousands in my life. Last night's view was one more.

Out Driving...With The Youngest

 I've been fortunate enough to help two of my children learn to drive.

Now, I'm helping our youngest.

Some things have changed, and some things have not.

When I helped teach the first two, we lived in an area with many more people. I remember driving the kids to an empty parking lot and swapping seats. Then, they would putter around the lot, practice their turning/stopping/signaling skills. They'd get a feel for the wheel, the brakes, the gas, and after a while, we'd change seats and I would drive us home.

This is when they first learned to drive. Of course, over time, they got better until eventually I would climb in the passenger seat and my child would drive us to wherever we were going and many times, would drive us home, too. But, I did not let them on a busy road with other drivers when they were first learning.

This time, it's a little different.

On Sunday, my son and I pulled out the van and I drove to rural Bothwell, Utah. If you're unfamiliar with Bothwell (rural, or otherwise...), you're not alone. I'm not dissing the place. In fact, I'll bet most Bothwell residents would prefer that people did NOT know about where they live. I chose the area for my son to get in more driving time because, well...there's not much there.

And on a Sunday afternoon in January, I suspected we'd be practically the only car on the road.

I was right.

My son climbed in the driver's seat and we were off. We did not go fast, and my son practiced pulling over and stopping several times just in case someone came up behind us and did not want to travel at the same rate of speed as us. The area was perfect, flat valley, long straight (and deserted...) roads.

The driving lesson was a success. He drove for a half hour, made two trips round a loop of a few homes and sod farms, was passed only once, and even drove by a county sheriff. 

So much different than a church parking lot.

We'll go out again and probably to the same spot. My son liked it--he felt comfortable and confident. Hopefully, that will make me comfortable and confident as well.

Come With Me To Bothwell City...Where The People Are Nice And The Skies Are Pretty

 Last night, we drove a little west and a little south. We stopped at a friend's house. I stepped away from the van and looked west.

The view was spectacular.

Maybe it's because I'm growing older every day...maybe it's because we lived in one place for so long and everything (still...) seems to new...maybe it's because we just happen to be in the right place at the right time...

Then again, maybe it's because it's so beautiful up here.

I'll go with the latter.

One thing that I kept thinking over and over again when we moved was, "Why aren't homes being built in all those fields?" It's a valid question, especially considering where we lived. It seemed every square foot of land was being gobbled up for houses/townhomes/apartments/RV pads. Here, well...there's room for hundreds of thousands of homes/townhomes/apartments/RV pads.

Bothwell is a small community just over the rise from where we live. Farmland out paces homes by a huge factor. They grow wheat and corn, and other things that my uneducated mind doesn't know. It is such an amazing place. 

Of course, amazing places cannot stay hidden forever. Soon (much too soon for the residents...) the next generation will see dollar signs and those fields will be divided and subdivided, roads then homes, then parks, churches, even RV pads will rise from the ground and trees will diminish the views of those pretty skies.

Come with me to Bothwell City...where the people are nice and the skies are pretty.

On A Hill...Overlooking A Valley...Eggli's Pine Trees Still Grow

 It was my wife that told me about the place. "Did you know there's an abandoned Christmas Tree Farm just down the road?" I, in fact, did not know there was an abandoned Christmas Tree Farm just down the road. I don't know what I was expecting when I finally drove by, but not that. 

Seeing a hillside full of trees isn't uncommon, though a group of pine trees this large is usually found in higher elevations. If the aging sign with the faded paint were missing, I would have driven past the trees and not thought much about it.

It's the sign that tells the story...

It's the sign that denotes a mystery.

We're new to the area. Ask me about events from the past fifty years in the town we left, there's a good chance I know something about it. Here...I know practically nothing. Seeing the trees and the sign sends my mind spinning. What happened to the business? Was there a family situation that caused the business to close? Did someone retire and no one wanted to take over? In the end, was it just too much work for the return?

So many questions.

What fascinates me is that the trees still grow. Even though they are no longer harvested and new trees planted to replace those sold, the trees don't care. They grow as a testament to life. They exist because there was once a time when they were capital and now they live as if to tell us humans that they survived...they persevered...

They won.

Maybe we'll be here long enough to see the next chapter in the abandoned trees. But, even if we don't, considering the story--the mystery, has been most interesting.