We have been working in the beautiful state of Utah this past month, exploring around Lake Powell and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. This experience has opened our eyes to the hidden beauty of the desert, from the incredibly carved slot canyons, to the towering mesas and buttes. But our heartstrings will always be pulled back to the mountains. After a full week of work and a five hour drive we arrived, home sweet home. Our exhaustion faded the minute we reached our county road and began the 7.4 mile ascent up the mountain. Our eyes lit up at the foliage, evergreen for as far as the eye could see. We turned down our dead end lane, smiling ecstatically at our creation, our home. Starting from an untouched parcel of land, cleared of the dead brush, leveled for a house, all the while living in the back of a truck. Built up, touched with love, to settling in and for the first time feeling comfortable in a place. A feeling we have never felt before. The lifestyle we choose, constantly, on the move teaches us to appreciate the simple comforts we have when we do come home. The quiet of the mountain makes us feel like we have the wilderness all to ourselves. Our only neighbors being the abundance of wildlife that roam these lands.
We unpacked, opening every window and the doors to our view. The fresh mountain air, the sweet scent of pine and juniper overwhelming the senses. Comfort seeped into our bones as the Milky Way lit up the sky, coaxing us through the doors into a lucid dream.
Sunlight dancing over eyelids awakens. A room of golden light, bouncing off the mapped walls, off the bookshelves, landing lavishly on my lovers skin. We rise with tangled hair and sleepy eyes. Filling ourselves fresh with coffee. Looking out over the valley to the peak, trees long limbed stretching toward the sky. Wildflowers bobbing in the breeze, dancing to the tune little song birds sing. Silence. And more silence.
Love embraced silence.
Our eyes met.
-We strip ourselves bare.
From the drapes of society.
Crawling back into the dark lush
Of the earth’s womb.
Comforting silence for a soundless mind.
We surrender to the moss of our skin.
My sense of smell was amplified upon stepping out of the truck in the dark, cool Colorado night sky. The sweet smell of ponderosa pine engulfed me, overtook my senses and instantly I felt the soothing atmosphere of home. The Milky Way spread out across the sky, constellations popping out, illuminating the path toward our home. Stepping through the darkness another smell struck me, the overwhelming aura of western red cedar. Running my hand along the cedar shake as I make my way to the door, I feel one step closer to perfected bliss. We light up the night with dim candles and LED bar lights. Standing behind the bar I relish looking the cabin over. Unmistakably magical to us, a wondrous, peaceful enchantment.
The sloping hills leading down to the edge of the property were covered thick with life. Buds of flowers peaking their heads up toward the sky, soon will radiate through the spring until plucked by the passing mule deer. Tracks zigzagging back and forth and up and down across the mountain; a vast network of highways, byways and homes, intersecting the stealthy path of the mountain lion and the rutted steps of the black bear. Home is life unyielding. Way up in the ponderosas red breasted robins sing out in the morning chill. Their morning song, like the battlefield hymn, triumphantly greeting the new day with anticipation and elation. In between the twisting juniper branches little lizards do pushups, asserting their dominance or attempting to swoon a mate. We hear the constant buzz of bees as they work on reconstructing their hives for the approaching summer that have been battered by a brittle winter.
The sound of Nature ringing in my ears. The trees like a harpsichord in the wind; an endless melody played throughout the day. Lost in wonder I sit on the porch next to Tyema with a morning cup of coffee. So simple this life is. So beautiful this life is. Quiet, peaceful, harmonious presence all around us.
During the day we took a drive down to the San Juan and watched the roaring whitewater rush through the edge of town. Hard to believe only four weeks prior the river lazily meandered without much flow. The peaks have been stripped of their winter blanket and now flow downstream. As we sat, eating our Thai lunch I pondered the length of its’ journey, and wondered if we would meet up with the same water tomorrow, for this river is incredibly symbolic of the here, the now, and tomorrow. The San Juan begins at home in the Weminuche and ends southeast of our current home in Glen Canyon. My mind is at ease knowing that a piece of home follows us through this rugged, remote terrain.
Home is hard to leave and forever creates a magical feeling. Whether it be one day or two months the feeling never changes or ceases. One place in all the world that we can truly be free and ourselves. No judgement, no commands or interjection. No noisy neighbors, no sirens or obstruction. Just simply us on our property, taking in the beauty of Nature.