Thursday March 16th – I am up early, before sunrise so I can catch the first light on the blossoms on a family of Joshua trees in the campground.
Sunlight on Joshua tree blossomsJoshua tree blossoms, sunlight, and moonJoshua tree blossoms at sunrise
In continuing on my morning walk, I run into David, the friendly fellow I met yesterday, and another neighbor. In commenting about the jet trails marring the sky, it turns out that David is quite aware of the phenomenon and very interested in learning about Clifford’s research.
Today is an editing day for me, but also a good cello-in-the-shade day. Hooray! It is a “biochemical-analyzer” day for Clifford as he learns more of the capabilities of this instrument.
Friday March 17th – My morning quiet time is a few minutes of sitting on the canyon rim, more of a slope than a drop-off, and then writing in my journal, warmed by the sun.
View from the doorway
I walk around the campground and talk to David and several of the other neighbors that I have met. What a friendly campground this is – I think perhaps because there are so many snow-birds. We are all of a similar age and living a similar lifestyle, which makes it easy and interesting to talk about where we’ve been and where we are going, sharing the memories of common places and learning of new places.
More editing for me and more chemical analyzer testing for Clifford.
Loving this beautiful desert canyon spot!
Nearing sunset at the Virgin River Canyon
Saturday March 18th – This morning I walk to the lower campground, which doubles as a rest stop along I-15. I walked along the trail below the rim, which is private, quiet, and scenic… and this walk is my quiet time.
Joshua trees along the below the rim trailView of the Virgin River from the below the rim trailJoshua tree at the Virgin River
Back at camp, I spend much of the day editing for two authors. In the evening I edit photos for the next couple of blogs. No cello today, as it was too hot and windy.
Sunday March 19th – After my quiet time of sitting on the canyon rim, I take care of internet business, including banking, emailing completed edited chapters to my authors, and posting a photo on Celebrate What’s Right With the World, a FB site that I follow. As I’m preparing photos for the next blog, I am undecided about which of several sunsets that I want to include and decide to have a contest on FB, posting seven sunset photos, all taken within moments of each other, and having my FB friends chose which one they like best. This will be interesting.
David comes by and suggests meeting for a late lunch at his site, so I get busy and make a potato salad to share. We gather at David’s site, joining him and three of his kids who are there for a visit, as well as a couple other neighbors. Of course, they are interested in Clifford’s work, but the talk centers around life in general and about the journeys we are all on.
Later in the day, David joins me on my walk down to the lower campground, which gives us more time to chat.
Flowers along the road
Lots of things on the “to-do” list don’t get done today, but that is okay. Spending quality time with people is more important.
One thought on “Winter Journey – More Virgin River – March 2017”
Hi Carol,
Love the picture/”composition” of the wildflowers, “Flowers along the rode.”
In my youth, being around my grandmother who had many flower gardens/beds, that’s where my appreciation of flowers germinated. I love everything about flowers — all the myriad shapes, sizes, colors, and smells! I love the “spirit and power” that (I feel) flowers possess: They have important lessons to teach us (humans) if we can just stop and “listen”.
“…As the gray Autumn early evening stillness suddenly turned darker fits of breeze growing stronger, energized into those dreaded swirls…
Not seeming to hear me nor looking up at the ever darkening sky she turned to her left and caught sight of the flowers still buoyant firm in the drying soil still a’float on the now cooler air under the living room’s great picture window, the only window in the house wise enough to show you why you’re better-off not venturing out.
…Uncomfortable with the peaceful silence I mindlessly opened my mouth her sacred communion interrupted when I said something about it being too late in the season for these flowers to still be in full-bloom, I babbled… unsurprised, unaroused and forgiving, and still focused on the flowers she said — ‘No, son, it’s never too late, this you must learn.’
…I noticed she had returned her devout attention and gaze back downward further and deeper still, addressing the lower lying surrounding flowers of varying shades — those reds of ‘desire’, the yellows of ‘compassion’ and the ‘purity’ of white more communion to commence, no gown’d-priest needed nor wanted and that’s no sin around here…”
[ From the poem, “From Out Of A Dreamworld She Came” (NS – Pgs. 24-27) ]
Hi Carol,
Love the picture/”composition” of the wildflowers, “Flowers along the rode.”
In my youth, being around my grandmother who had many flower gardens/beds, that’s where my appreciation of flowers germinated. I love everything about flowers — all the myriad shapes, sizes, colors, and smells! I love the “spirit and power” that (I feel) flowers possess: They have important lessons to teach us (humans) if we can just stop and “listen”.
“…As the gray Autumn early evening stillness suddenly turned darker fits of breeze growing stronger, energized into those dreaded swirls…
Not seeming to hear me nor looking up at the ever darkening sky she turned to her left and caught sight of the flowers still buoyant firm in the drying soil still a’float on the now cooler air under the living room’s great picture window, the only window in the house wise enough to show you why you’re better-off not venturing out.
…Uncomfortable with the peaceful silence I mindlessly opened my mouth her sacred communion interrupted when I said something about it being too late in the season for these flowers to still be in full-bloom, I babbled… unsurprised, unaroused and forgiving, and still focused on the flowers she said — ‘No, son, it’s never too late, this you must learn.’
…I noticed she had returned her devout attention and gaze back downward further and deeper still, addressing the lower lying surrounding flowers of varying shades — those reds of ‘desire’, the yellows of ‘compassion’ and the ‘purity’ of white more communion to commence, no gown’d-priest needed nor wanted and that’s no sin around here…”
[ From the poem, “From Out Of A Dreamworld She Came” (NS – Pgs. 24-27) ]
I know you understand,
Daryl