Travel in Europe and Nevada/California
07/09/2008 11:54 p.m.
"From Spotted Orchids to the Mariposa Lilly"
17 June-July 3, 2008


Denver, 7:20 p. m. 17 June 2008

The flight from Salt Lake City lasted only an hour. It was cloudy much of the way, but I recognized the Uintas (probably the Bear River and Black’s Fork), but we couldn’t see Fort Bridger for the clouds. Flaming Gorge was wonderful--the size of the lake itself is awe inspiring.

The (travel) group is grouping up: Ronnie Erickson with Jeff Perry (of course), Bill and Stacie Doute with Tatem Tarbett, and I and the two boys (Kasey Marble, Tyler Neilson).

We’ll board the plane for London in a few minutes--about a 9 hour flight with a mid-morning arrival.

Denver’s airport is comfortable enough, but large.


London 5:05 p. m. 19 June 2008

We’re sitting in the Phoenix Garden, not far from Shaftsbury Street (and the supper restaurant) in downtown London. It was a pleasant and rewarding day with a driving and walking tour in the morning, and free time with a trip by tube to the Tower of London.

My memory, and maps and navigating skills have been more than adequate.

Last evening, we visited St. Giles Parish Church in South Mimms, near Potters Bar, and got a wonderful personalized tour of the Church by the assistant Vicar (even saw “the little green man” carved in the frilly woodwork at the front of the church). Kasey said that he wanted to go walking, so I asked at the motel if there was something interesting to walk to. I was told there was a Pub down the road and a cemetery, but that it was hard to spot.

We walked only a few yards across the freeway and along the highway until we found the cemetery--complete with creaking iron gate, and all overgrown and tumbled up--it was mystical and beautiful in the late dusk. We went further and found (as I thought must be) that it was beside an ancient church. On the door was a sign that said if you wanted to see the church, ask next door. Kasey encouraged me, we asked, the guy hesitated, but I think it was the cute bright boy Kasey (and perhaps because we were from the States that prompted him to give us a tour at 9:30 p. m. I know he was impressed that I knew the relationship that exists between “the Old Catholic Church” and the Church of England (this congregation leans toward the “Catholic”). Yes, and afterward we did go down to the Pub where we were accepted in a very friendly manner (not many there that time of night, but very open to strangers from America).

I’ve felt very connected to England and have savored its “European-ness.” Both mornings I’ve gotten up early and walked out into the countryside behind the motel--it’s exquisite! I think I’d be more satisfied walking here in the countryside than going on into London for the day! I’ve got to get back here and “do this country justice!”


Paris 4:50 p. m. 21 June 2008

Again, even with more time and more information, the Louvre was (I’ve thought this out!) “grand, poorly communicated, and impractical (or excessive).” That summarizes too some of my impressions of France and some of the French. But on the more positive side, Paris hasn’t seemed so large and scary. I’ve enjoyed the sights, the traveling, the company, and the adventure of the place.

I shouldn’t have done it, but I let my group split. Stacie, Jeff, Ronnie, and Tatem stayed shopping. Scott, Kasey, Tyler and I came to the Musee d’Orsay. We were to meet 10 minutes ago (on the Metro we had a challenge getting here).


Somewhere South-East of Paris 22 June 2008

I’m sitting next to a half-naked little high school (?)-aged floozie from West Valley City (S.L.C.), Utah. She’s uncomfortable and whishing she were sitting elsewhere (me too!), but she was late on the bus, and there was no where else for her to sit.

Again, I’m “more than impressed” by the luxuriant richness of France’s rural areas: the farms, the woods, just the rolling expanse of green and gold beneath the gray-blue heavens. It’s a wealth and beauty unlike anything we have in “the West.” I certainly understand why Great Grandfather Weyermann would weep at the sight of his native Switzerland in pictures (Europe is tremendously rich, historical, and beautiful). And yet I know (and I love and cherish the benefits of) why they left Europe.

I keep thinking of home and family and church and Sunday. Perhaps it’s because of yesterday’s call home (to Jan from down town Paris); perhaps the six days of life as a tourist; perhaps (I hope) it’s yearning for each other.

This old, beautiful, rich land. I sense it’s deep history (Rome and before, and of course the Middle Ages--still visible, and all of the struggles since then down to now); almost hear the whispering of the repetitive cycle of joy and rejoicing in the gifts of the Earth, and the seasonal deprivations by the sword.

Time for a break--15 minutes at a truck stop. (European truck drivers drive half-naked--gross!)


Neuschwanstein, Germany (Food Ideas) 25 June 2008

“Kaiser Schmarn” German pancake (like Jan makes almost--egg whites separated and whipped) (turned over) (perhaps with raisins in), and cut up, topped with powdered sugar and / or plum “moes” (cooked squished plums with sugar--like pie filling). (The tour guide had this for lunch.)

“Kase Spaetzle” Spaetzle layered with white cheese (Swiss?) and onions, topped with chives and with fried (food service-type) fried onions. This might be even better with a little bacon added in. (This is what I had for lunch at a restaurant below Neuschwanstein.)

“Kurry Wurst” Bratwurst served with ketchup (curry?) and curry powder sprinkled on top. This is served with French Fries on the side.


Oberamergau 3:25 p. m. 25 June 2008

I slept as we passed back through Innsbrück. The hotel in Tulfas was traditional family (farm people) but fairly large and “rich” for such an operation. We all wished we could stay another day.

Innsbrück was comfortable to visit. We wanted to visit a “panorama” but it was closed--instead we sat a while in a Biergarten beneath a horse chestnut tree (I drank a good mineral water with lemon).

This morning we (Kasey, Scott, and I) walked up the mountain behind the hotel and besides a beautiful morning view of the Inn Valley, we saw some excellent wild orchids (spotted orchids, I believe).

Yesterday morning I walked through Gronbach Village--north of Altdorf--where the hotel was located. The grave yard was moving.

The evening before, we walked up the mountain along the creek and down along the Urnersee (part of Lake Luzern).

The morning before (Monday) I walked alone up the mountain (a serious meditation--worship) along the creek (Gronbach?). Such walks are consumptive (drinking in the scenery and culture and spirit) and expressive in terms of prayer, thanks, and interaction with God and Nature. I ate wild strawberries and anointed myself with alpen creek water (perhaps the most powerful experience of the entire trip).

4: 16 p. m. 25 June 2008

We just visited the chapel at the monastery of Ettal. It is gloriously harmonious in baroque splendor.

Life is better with “Germanic” language and culture (comparing to England, and France, anyway). And I have been comfortable in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. But I wasn’t uncomfortable in Paris--I hope to get back to enjoy my level of familiarity.

We’re on the expressway now, bussing it to München. I have a head ache (my first on this trip--but it’s a real throbbing migraine).

We’ll probably spend the evening in München (the night Germany plays Turkey--a crazy football night!).

The trip home tomorrow.

Observations:

Window boxes are planters inside the wooden exteriors (somewhat like I have made on the balcony of our garage).

Window boxes did consist mostly of “thriving” geraniums in excellent moist soil.

Many Swiss shutters were red--some brown--some green.

The detail, the harmony with the past and with Nature, make the “Alpine” countries so attractive and so continuously beautiful.

I’m sleepy again.

We’re near the Starnbergersee.

Supper, then München, then the hotel, then . . . .


München Airport 9: 20 a. m. 26 June 2008

We’re on the plane to London. Last evening in Munich was pleasant (though a bit rainy). They shopped; the public transport was easy; finding the hotel (my biggest concern) was the easiest: we got off the tram with an older couple who lived near it. We walked (briskly) with them most of the way.

I hope that all the planes connect on time. And of course that the luggage makes it (Heathrow Airport is a concern).

I may sleep on the way to London.

The Doutres are figuring out their spendings.

Jeff Perry remained the slowest and the most prone to being “late.”

Tyler turned out to be a good traveling companion (I knew he would be), and was so sharp in terms of the public transport systems. In spite of all of the negative experiences, students really are a great blessing--the real reason and reward for being a teacher.


The Plane to London 10: 35 a. m. 26 June 2008

Again, the shopping in Luzern was comfortable and so pleasant. I do need to record and incident: As we were walking north or east in the Fussgängerzone in Luzern, I saw two men with books and a sign that said “Biebel.” I spoke it outloud in German to dray my kids’ attention to it (I had all five of the kids with me then, and I do always “teach.”). That caught the two guys attention and we spoke to each other mostly in German. I said we were all Mormons, and asked what they were. He went off on the idea that the Mormons were “lost” because they’d added to the Bible, and in response to what religion they were, he said, “religions are of man, the gospel is of God.” I didn’t comment more than to let him know that I really knew my religion, understood his, and I translated with commentary for the kids. At one point he said, “then you’re Christian?” I answered him that we were. He said, “the Muslims are wrong,” and I agreed with him. And he said, “I can see you’re wrong too: your women have colored their hair and don’t properly cover their bodies. It’s all in the Bible, you know.” And I said, “Yes, but I’m not going to translate that.” He could see the twinkle in my eye. I asked if they were Jehova’s Witnesses, and he said they were simply “born again.” And I let him know I knew the scripture (born of water and of the spirit). As we parted, his silent (up to that point) companion said, “God bless you.” and I thanked him and said, “and you too.”

In the end, he had enjoyed me enjoying him and translating to them (I did well too). But shamefully, those girls worldliness had been the dominant expression of what should have been God’s real (LDS) truth, and I knew it. Though pleased with the encounter, I also felt somewhat heart broken (I hadn’t properly “testified.”). Actions speak so much louder than words.

I didn’t feel the need to contest, but I think I made it clear “I knew my truth” as they knew theirs. I wish I had born my testimony--but again, what haunts me really, “O sisters of Zion--when they saw your actions, they would not believe my words.”

We’re now descending into Heathrow London--with only minutes to catch the next plane.


The Plane from London to Washington ?:?? 26 June 2008

We’re somewhere over Maine now and will be landing soon. The little time capsule has brought us back to the “real world.” These bonds break, the friendships fade, the recent realities--fading memories.

I hope that I can pick up my “burdens” with finesse. With a newness generated by a view of life lived more completely--like a lens that brightens and intensifies the vision: that should be the lasting gift of travel--the enduring souvenir, and yes, and why I didn’t take many pictures (though I do have the kid’s pictures for back up).

Flickering within me is a little fear of the “let down” that has sometimes followed a trip to Europe. And this summer with the wrecked truck has been a bit of a “downer” anyway (I hate to admit I sometimes fall into real depression--at least I recognize when I’m there).

How’s Dad? How’s Veda? What duties are awaiting me? The upcoming trip to Reno will interfere with what? How’s the garden and yard at home? In Brigham City? What’s the status with Camp Loll? With the dryness and heat at home? --Soon enough--with finesse--grace and more style--greater truer focus--greater joy in my own living.

Ideas:

Red-brown shutters for the house--perhaps made of cedar, and eventually window boxes too with drip systems.

Kaiser Schmarn “Austrian pancakes”

Buy the spaetzle at Siegfrieds and make Kase Spaetzle.
Finish (and paint) the garage; the sheetrock on the stairs; finish up the living room; the new stove for the family room; moving the wood stove into the living room.

The new videos for German class.


Washington D. C. The Plane to Chicago 5:30 p. m. 26 June 2008

We’re delayed due to bad weather in Chicago. I was just thinking about how “cruddy” London (north) and Heathrow Airport looked. And about how we were misdirected to our gate of departure at Heathrow this morning. England seemed somewhat rundown and burdened with itself.

Paris was beautiful, but pretentious. As I said before, “grandiose, poorly communicated and impractical” --like the Louvre.

Luzern was cozy: friendly and home-like; logical and blended with Nature; old, but with a bustle of its own, a liveliness born of good health.

München was crazy with football last night (Germany played Turkey and won). People were waving German flags, honking, shouting and carrying on. After Germany won, they drove around the traffic circle in front of the hotel laying on the horn, cheering, and waving German flags--more than a reflection of the friendlier south.

Innsbrück was much like Luzern in spirit but larger and city-like. The Inn River was high and raging (snow-melt run off plus recent rain).

Finally we’re off the ground and on our way.

Poetry sketchs:

“Gronbach”

Lying between feathers
Stars visible
Listening to an alpine stream
It sings of snowfields
Of Spruces and granitic boulders
A variation of a song
I know (my heart knows) so well
And with the first light
I will go up there
To thrust in my hand,
Feel the prints of the nails
Surrendering (losing) my Faith to Knowledge
Before this, only a dream
European (fantasy) on themes of Home (West)



“Gronbach II”

I ascend from small gardens through beeches to spruces
Listening to the caroling of Alpen nymphs
Surrendering to the spirit of a rugged Alpen gorge
Reading the wild flowers
Partaking of a Eucharist of wild strawberries and spring water
The wild gods surge within me
And I stoop to anoint myself in the holy water of the Firn
Expressing for the first time
A truth I’ve always known
Wandering-prodigal
The blood at last in it’s ancient new-found home

“Tulfer Berg”

As fresh and common as the morning
You led us upward
Groves and meadows
Revealing your beauties
Here a little, there a little
Orchids, clover . . . .


Carson City, NV 6:30 p. m. 29 June 2008
Veda Kidman Pre-Writing

Were it just my choice, I wouldn't be speaking today, and yet, I'm also very grateful to be privileged to say a few words about Veda.

What a rich, beautiful life she has had; beautiful like our current season--no, not perfect, earth life is always flawed, but a beauty and wealth that to the sensitive eye and listening heart testifies of a loving Heavenly Father.

I don't know if I first met Veda through my association with Dan or through my wife Jan. But I soon came to know that she was a "salt-of-the-earth" lady who could do anything--and that we shared many interests: plants, folklore and history, and genealogy, and these were things we often talked about.

(add in some of the young women's memories from the other document here)

Because her background in plants was different from my Boy Scout background; she and I and Dan have often talked long and wide before coming to the conclusion that we were really talking about the same thing, just with a different name. I think that's an important concept to learn about life, that real knowing so often goes so far beyond the name. And more than once, Garth got tired of listening to us puzzle, and went out to work in the shop.

And that too is remarkable about Veda's life: like Ed and Orpha, and Lamar and Ruby, and Mike and Marrian; Veda's name was always tied to Garth's. The Tractor Patch was Garth and Veda's. You don't go visit "the Kidmans," you go visit Garth and Veda. They are that all too uncommon example of what marrige ought to be.

It was my privilege to be Veda's Bishop for several years, and we as a Ward witnessed Garth and Veda lovingly care for Curtis to the very end; and then turn around and do the same for their good friend Trigger Jim. During that time, I didn't see Garth and Veda in church as much as I'd have liked to; but I know well, that religion is a lot like those plants that Veda and I knew by different names, and more than once the scripture came to mind, "in as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my bretheren, ye have done it unto me." (add some other scripture or comments on Charity and true religion here)

And I confess that during my service as bishop, the bishop sometimes went to visit Veda, because he was weary of problems and concerns and in need of the wisdom and strength and practical Christianity that Veda could offer to the bishop.

And anybody who knew Veda knew what it meant to have the "spirit of Elijah." Just like Veda could sense the "Eternal" in the beauty and wonder of the world around her, Veda demonstrated through her countless hours of family history work, a testimony of the eternal nature of the family.

It too has been my privilege to know Veda and Garth's children and grandchildren quite well. I will always consider Dan to be one of my greatest gifts from Bear River High School. And too I've had a good association with Kelly and her kids and most recently with Ben and Andrea. Ben was the type of bright boy that Baden Powell himself would have cherished in his Scout troop, and I'm certain that Andrea Jo has more days and nights of camping than most of the Eagle Scouts in the Bear River Valley. In the cold or the rain or the bugs, I often found myself thinking, "Andrea sure is a tough un-complaining little girl"--and along with it, "but consider who her grandmother is."

(come to a conclusion--perhaps end with the words to the hymn "Each Soul that Touches Ours for Good" or with the quote from Emerson given at Henry David Thoreau's funeral, and a testimony)

It seems an injury that he should leave in the midst his broken task which none else can finish, a kind of indignity to so noble a soul that he should depart out of Nature before yet he has been really shown to his peers for what he is. But he, at least, is content. His soul was made for the noblest society; he had in a short life exhausted the capabilities of this world; wherever there is knowledge, wherever there is virtue, wherever there is beauty, he will find a home.

Each life that touches ours for good
Reflects thine own great mercy, Lord.
Thou sendest blessings from above
Through words and deeds of those who love.

What greater gift dost thou bestow,
What greater goodness can we know
Than Christ-like friends, whose gentle ways
Strengthen our faith, enrich our days.

When such a friend from us departs
We hold forever in our hearts
A sweet and hallowed memory,
Bringing us nearer, Lord, to thee.

For worthy friends whose lives proclaim
Devotion to the Savior's name,
Who bless our days with peace and love,
We praise thy goodness Lord above.


Lake Tahoe 10: 30 a. m. 30 June 2008

“Tahoe”

To maintain purity
In such a flood of love,
When humanity tends to spoil
What draws it most--
And yet, she does.

For in the cool
Of early morning
Amid the rush of cars,
The whirr of boats,
The croaking of ravens,

I sense tranquility
And even the lingering
Song of isolation
Sung in the silence
Of distant western snow.

“Tahoe II”

A wild and rocky cove.
North facing with granite boulders
Very little beach
Shadowed by old trees
I do not know.

Here I’d have
Come as a youth
Seeking seclusion and meditation,
My young fleshy heart
Desiring much more.

--He has come to fish
With a yapping dog
And a round woman
Scantily patched in black--
Perhaps we are brothers.



Walker, CA 9:45 a. m. 1 July 2008

A week ago I was in Innsbrück, Austria, today in the eastern Sierra foothills of California. Instead of the rushing churning Inn (river) in a verdant alpine valley, it’s the well-diverted Walker, the life’s blood of this desert community.

A loud, Cub Scout-sounding woman is coaching some grade-school-aged girls in “flag flipping” -- perhaps for a 4th of July celebration?

It’s not hot yet, but it will be. I’m at a playground square park: well-shaded with mostly cottonwoods (I can smell them too). I reminds me a lot of Utah or Idaho. I suppose one could call this the “Utah-part of California.” It’s also not far from an Indian Reservation, and that presence too is obvious.

No word yet on Veda. Even with the decadence of Reno, she’s been in my thoughts and prayers.

I guess this is rest enough. I’m heading South--perhaps as far as Mono Lake, though I’ll be staying at Bridgeport this evening--back to Reno tomorrow night, and then Carson City again on Thursday--HOME for a while on Friday.


Near Bridgeport, CA 4:00 p.m. 1 July 2008

I found the campground, “Old Virginia Settlement,” about 5 miles south of Bridgeport on highway 395. It’s in the Sierra foothills in a canyon along Virginia Creek. Because I couldn’t check in until 3: 00 p. m., I went the extra 20 miles down to Mono Lake--located just east of the east gate of Yosemite (Yosemite was a temptation, but I’ve “saved it” for another trip.

Mono Lake was well worth the visit. The interpretive visitor’s center was excellent. The lake is a lot like the Great Salt Lake, but with volcanic geology, tufa limestone formations, and of course, it’s on the western edge of the Great Basin. I also met some Dutch people (emigrated to CA and were vacationing--complemented my Dutch).

I was most impressed with Bridgeport, located between a huge snowy Sierra flanked, lush meadow on the west and a reservoir on the East. It’s a cute town, almost old Jackson Hole-ish (still had cows) but without the prestige or the money.

This campground offers adequate “tent cabin” quarters in what might once have been a creek side hay meadow (I can see what looks like an old irrigation ditch). The altitude is high enough that it’s not too hot, even in the heat of the afternoon.


Near Bridgeport, CA 5:52 p. m. 1 July 2008

I’ve been reading Thomas Mann’s “Death in Venice”--appropriate, somehow, at my age and in my situation. I love the way he subtly and psychologically reveals character. He reminds me of Hesse, of course, to whom I always return for some type of literary, German-cultural, and geographic nurture.

I keep having European “flashbacks;” feelings like I should be there still, or vivid memories of the life and scenes I experienced less than a week ago--as though the love and ability to live that live, now shelved, wants to jump off the shelf and become reality again.

And I’m equally comfortable with this American camping mode; after all, it’s the “real” me. This western, simplistic style, with little more than an automobile and a sleeping bag--and a good book, with crackers and cheese and apples to eat. This is comfort too; life on the edge of adventure--though I do miss my people when I’m off and alone like this.

There’s a hot spring close by, I may go find it.


Near Bridgeport, CA 9:10 p. m. 1 July 2008

I just got back from Travertine Hot Spring. The spring itself is mostly natural (where I was, anyway). I’d compare the experience to a good social night at “Stinky” (before they ruined it). Two high school graduate boys traveling cross country (from the Carolinas to California and back), an old pervert from down by L.A., an earthy collegiate couple from Michigan , and two 20-30ish men from the Bay Area with college age young women. Of course the Scenery was much better than at Stinky, and the large meadow with the sun setting behind the still snow sierras was absolutely spectacular!

The Bay Area couples didn’t stay long; the collegiates too didn’t last long (he actually fell on the wet clay and hurt his arm). The pervert left and came back (said he’d been asleep). The boys and I had a good visit--hit it off, really.

They told me the better spring is out the road west through the meadows (turn at the Shell Station in Bridgeport); then right at the campground on a dirt road and then across a bridge, then down a steep hill to the river (the hot spring is on the edge of the river so you have the hot and cold mix).

Yes, this travel suits me well too.


Reno, NV (the public library) 2:15 p. m. 2 July 2008

I just typed in my sketch of a talk for Veda into my Email--one task done and less chance of losing that “inspiration.” When I got my “pass” to use the computer, I couldn’t remember (it’s been a whole year) what you had to type in as the “name.” Because I knew she had just done it herself, I very quietly and shyly asked the lady next to me what I should type in. She very snottily pointed to it on the paper. I thought the exchange was over but about five minutes later she whispered savagely to me, “If you have any other questions, go ask the librarian!” I didn’t respond; I just kept typing. Then about five minutes later she said nastily, “You don’t type like you don’t know how to use computers!” I didn’t even stop or look at her. And then about five more minutes later, “This better not be some kind of trick!” I just kept typing . . . .

I decided to sit here in the library for a few minutes, and just happened to choose a spot by the German books. In a book about Bavaria, I found this good quote:

“Wann du in Tag glücklich sein willst--dann trinke;
Wann du eine Woche glücklich sein willst--dann schlachte ein Schwein;
Wann due in Jahre glücklich sein willst--dann heirate;
Wann due in Leben lang glücklich sein willst--dann bau dir ein Haus in den Bergen.”

aus dem alten China

(I’ll share this with Delose--I think it explains the ability and need to do “camp” so many years at Loll.)

It is hard to believe that I was at Neuschwanstein just a week ago. It was beautiful, impressive, and has surely “Paid out” as a tourist attraction--though it does bother me that anyone could spend so much on such things--when some at the time were so absolutely poor. (Yes, it happens in America too!) To have visited some of these places twice now, gives them a different level of “ownership.” Oh, yes, I would go back, but with different needs and expectations. --Ugh, I’m getting sleepy. Time to move on.


Donner Summit, CA 9:46 a. m. 3 July 2008

Poetry sketch:

“Donner”

Something draws me here--
Surely the mountains,
The summit, the ridge;
The story too has power,
For as one who has kept
A fire in the snow,
Slept out in the dead of Winter,
Their ordeal of suffering
Speaks to my soul.

But perhaps more powerful
Is my own first memory
Of this rugged mountain place:
At twelve, this was the portal
Of the great world beyond “the Basin:”
The abandonment of sage and juniper,
The door to a world
Beyond irrigation, beyond the Salt Lakes,
Where rain fell and all flowed to the sea,
Where moderation favored the Earth
With new plants grown in new ways--
New ideas just as vast
As the new reality of the Pacific Ocean;
Here my adolescent soul
Was on the threshold of The World.

It’s true, I returned to live my life in the Basin--
In the limits of the Salt Lakes
(Yes, I have recognized the value
And safety of mountain perimeters.),
But it is surely that memory of youth,
That early “mountain-top-experience”
That brink of expectation,
That glimmer here, yet,
And for which I make what has become
An annual pilgrimage.


Donner Summit, CA 10:59 a.m. 3 July 2008

I just made the little “glacial” walk again, but with an extension on the Pacific Rim Trail to the North under I-80. The wildflowers were exquisite (I had heard they would be at the hot spring on Tuesday evening). There was a profusion of what looked like a semi-shrubby pink penstamon along with some blue round tufted ones. There was a blue flower with a fern-like leaf, I didn’t know, some pinkish malvas we don’t have at home, buckwheats, some beautiful heather, really, too many to list. And I wasn’t disappointed, on the dry side was an extended cluster of mariposa lilies (just like the cemetery in South Mimms, Veda would have loved it).

I do enjoy it up here, even though it is very “common roadside.” That may well be part of Donner’s charm. that, and knowing what a wealth of godly beauty awaits, but a few steps from the main road, readily available, and yet how few there are that see and experience it (like Yellowstone). And what a lovely parable of life that too depicts.

I may stop at Donner State Park before returning to the heat of the valley and lunch (at the Indian Garden restaurant).

Home tomorrow.


Jackson Hole, WY, Annie’s Mission Call 5 July 2008


Beaver Dam, UT, Veda’s Funeral 11:00 a. m. 7 July 2008

I am currently Blessed
I am listening to Judy Collins