Well- so much was going on with me in Saginaw- cement mixers laying car pads, being sent away because their cement was substandard; a new cement truck finally rumbling in with the right sort of slop. A huge, leaning tree felled, and 50 year old shrubs that had grown 50 feet high chopped gone, which left us with tons of heavy-duty landscape work, like hauling huge branches and logs a long distance, over and over, until finally reaching a great pile, then heaving the monsters into it to feed tree eating machines which will come another day; and delays, delays, delays as this and that machine broke down over and over- then the garage doors hung up; we inspected the working and found a cable unraveled, so the garage must stay open until next week. The kitchen remodeling is taking forever and forever- and after far too long trying to move things along I threw up my hands and drove to Traverse City on Saturday to work in the secret garden.
Saginaw has exhausted my patience.
And eeked away precious time.
The good news? Traverse City is lovely; the secret garden is growing at a shocking rate. I should be able to open in two weeks or so. Oh how fine to be here again!!!
The bad news: I’m truly exhausted. There’s been not one minute to spare from Saginaw outdoor work to compose anything polished this week.
But- I do have photos of our drive from Zion National Park up I-15 to I-70 (which would finally lead us to Moab, and Arches National Park). That one drive was-- beyond spectacular. Just when we thought we’d seen Utah’s best show at Zion, along came ‘The Gasper Highway’ (My name for it). Who would imagine that beyond the close, high walls on either side of the road is- Heaven on Earth. All one sees are a few small, innocuous signs just now and then that read, ‘scenic overlook.’ NO trumpets. Nothing to hint at what’s to come. You have to be not rushed, and be the curious sort, willing to leave the beaten track for a bit.
Scenic overlook, indeed. Those two words could serve as the very definition of understatement. Every time we left the highway and wound around each little side road to take a peek we were rendered speechless.
What we saw out there was better than the Grand Canyon, which I’ve seen twice. THIS American canvas included us. We were part of it. We were in it. We saw what the old-time Greek gods might have surveyed: giant red and cream and brown and black mountains, cream and white striped cliffs cascading down to deep valleys, monstrous earth-slants, their bright stripes pointing down, demonstrating Earth’s restless movements over the eons that happened a hundred miles beneath our feet, ----and the Colors!! Oh, the rich palate of earth-tones...And the v a s t ness of it all.... We stood there, in each little parking lot, and stared and stared.
Look at the cars far away. They’re dots.
The Grand Canyon happens in a different way. One drives along a dead flat land, which suddenly plunges down into the most incredible underworld, the mega-masterpiece carving of the busy Colorado River over eons of time. Everything is below the viewer, and lit from above by the capricious sun. Great shadows hide parts of it, and illuminate others. One looks down into those canyons.
It was so different, here. I have never seen anything like it, ever. We were IN it!
Have a look. As usual, photos don’t do it justice. But try to imagine your tiny self among this gorgeous immensity...
We absolutely must travel that highway again, to turn into every one of those timid, unassuming turnoffs again.
Their offerings were/are- fit for the gods.
