Treasures in fragmented layers litter this terrestrial labyrinth
Underneath scattered, undulated time. The hour glass thrown.
Cracked and splintered, a pedestal for observation.
Gliding along a shelf of cedar, aromatic intoxication infused with sage.
The ancient man still slumbering in sleep, seen from desert to stream.
From cliffs and mesas, mountains and bridges, arches and kivas.
Stands (lies) the test of recorded time.
The smell fades as sand sifts. The eyes glaze betwixt.
We are burnt, scorched in rays of wonder and admiration.
Silently staggering in clay, our feet of the same sheet.
Flesh on flesh, bones on stones.
Who ever said the desert was a lonesome place?
Filled with life, above and below,
Forever linked, soul with soul.
There is magic hidden in the desert oasis. The Henries faded in the rear view mirror, an isolated mountain range as tall as 11,522 ft, towering over the lower desert plateau. A network of deep rutted canyons and winding washes, carved scars on the desert surface, zigzagging their way down to the very edges of the Waterpocket Fold, around and down feeding into Lake Powell.
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.
For the past few years Tyema and I have been living a very minimalistic lifestyle, making a conscious effort to reduce our carbon footprint at home, and on the road. In this ever changing world it is important for all of us to do what we can to help protect our environment for future generations.
Northeast of Moab on Scenic Byway 128 the Colorado River flows through the meandering canyon as it channels its’ way down to Canyonlands National Park, meeting up with the Green River from the North. We have been following and tracing the course of the Colorado for the last few years as it rushes from the Rocky Mountains National Park to the South Eastern edges of Lake Mead National Recreation Area. Humbly always watching in awe as thousands of miles of river carve ancient canyons, dramatically distorting the landscape. We have seen beginning to end, forward and reverse from hundreds of perspectives. From white capped, rushing snow melt to stained red sandstone sediment, it endlessly changes shape, form and identity. Constantly flowing, constantly providing life across the Western Plateau.
After twenty hours of train we arrived in the Arctic circle, our intentions set on viewing the great Northern Lights. With the temperature below freezing, we strapped on our packs and began the short walk to our Hotel. The sun was peeking up over the Fjord in its efforts to rise. We knew we only had a couple short hours of daylight left so we hurried to our hotel, dropped our bags and headed out toward the pier. We were bundled up snug in cozy layers trying to fight the arctic chill. Greg wanted to get to the end of the pier to catch the sunset over the fjord, I was reluctant and freezing so it took some convincing to get me moving. But with each step, the colors of the sunset began to slowly change and my excitement warmed me again.