Why I Love Utah: Reason no. 47

About two miles from my parent's house is the entrance to Big Cottonwood Canyon and an endless array of outdoor recreation and stunning beauty. My family camped about twelve miles up the canyon and went on several hikes through what felt like Alaskan backcountry rather than just a thirty minute drive from fast-paced city life, traffic, and pollution. I love it!
"Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. Whatever the vexations or concerns of their personal lives, their thoughts can find paths that lead to inner contentment and to renewed excitement in living. Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for the spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature--the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."

--Rachel Carson, The Sense of Wonder

Chapter One, Page One

Fraulein Maria liked to say, "When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." My window view is looking very classical, which is fitting considering "the classic city" is soon to be home. About a month ago I made a quick in-and-out visit and captured some stylistic features of a few of the older buildings on campus. My little foray prompted a dusting off of once-known architecture terminology...fun words like entabulature, architrave, dentils, plinth, and fluting. The campus has quite an array of orders, which I think can be identified as Ionic, Corinthian, and Greek Doric, respectively (corrections or affirmations are welcome!) The university was chartered in 1785, the oldest in the country, and my particular building is in the original north campus amongst equally ancient sprawling oak trees. It is comforting to be approaching all this newness with plenty of history as a foundation.

The Unsung Hero

During the time that I was in college my family lived in Iowa. In most any new social situation at school I could count on being asked that universal question, "So where are you from?" My answer of "Iowa" almost always brought one of two different responses: 1) a blank stare and a little bit of uncomfortable shifting of the feet as the person frantically tried to come up with SOMETHING, ANYTHING to say about Iowa or 2) "Oh, Iowa, yah I think I drove through there once--lots of corn."

My mom and I recently made our own cross-country trek in a Budget moving truck and had quite a few "drive through" experiences of our own. Kansas was one of the states on our tour de America, and I admit I approached the state with the same stereotypical shortsidedness that I found so annoying as a college student. But, I was pleasantly surprised. In fact, I found Kansas to be--dare I say it--rather fascinating. So, in praise of seldom thought of midwestern states, I give you my impressions of Kansas, the unsung hero.
We came into the state heading west on I-70 from Kansas City and were met with Topeka and the Brown vs. Board of Education Center, the "Little Apple" of Manhattan, Kansas and home of Kansas State University. Just past the university exit was the Konza Prairie Restoration and Research Center for KSU. A military base at Fort Riley had dozens of oversized brown-black helicopters that looked like flying cockroaches (one took off right as we passed and made sort of an awkward wobbly start). The rolling hills of Ellsworth County were covered in huge white wind turbines. Operational oil rigs were scattered across the state, but were especially plentiful near Russell, Kansas. The claim of "sunflower state" was a little disappointing because in our drive along I-70 we only came across one field of the cheery flowers, near Hays, Kansas. (Perhaps though it is like Georgia being the "peach state" and yet you would never see a single peachtree orchard anywhere north of Macon. )

There were also grazing buffalo, old fashioned wind mills, fields of harvested wheat (or barley?), corn fields, hay bales, wind breaks, and lots of prairie. But, lest you think it was just a lot of sameness, the innovative Kansas residents have created pleasant diversions for boredom weary travelers. Tired of seeing mile after mile of rolling green hills?--you are in luck, stop for a bit, put your feet up, enjoy some refreshment and wander through a musuem honoring...barbed wire, or an 8000 lb. prairie dog, or the largest Czech egg in the world, or the famous fish-within-a fish fossil, or a six-legged steer. If that is not enought to tempt you, why not make an entire vacation exploring the EIGHT WONDERS OF KANSAS! (who knew?) Mom and I were curious enough (or bored enough?) to take a 30 mile (one way) off-the-beaten path adventure to pursue one of those "eight wonders". South of Oakley, Kansas is Monument Rock, a group of chalk monoliths from the Createous period of geologic history when the state was under water that for some reason are extremely resistant to wind erosion. Certainly an oddity for the western Kansas prairie!

I suppose the overall appeal had something to do with the fact that I have never driven across the state of Kansas before. The newness of the experience made anything (even ANOTHER wind mill) seem exciting. But, I think the appeal also has something to do with seeing Americana in an undefiled state. The sky was so blue, the harvested fields of grain so golden, billboards were minimal, pollution was almost non-existent, roadside littering was few and far between, and there was a sense of history and preservation. This is certainly not your drama queen state. Don't expect a prima donna performance, no knock-your-socks-off vacation destinations. But refreshing, and soothing, and altogether picturesque, yes.

In Memorium

The Atlanta Georgia Temple is closed for major exterior and interior renovations. My time as grounds supervisor is finished there, but I thought it fitting to post a few of my favorite pictures from the gardens I helped maintain. Most if not all of the existing plants will be removed and an entire new design will be installed by the time the temple reopens in about a year and a half. I like to think there is some kind of divine compensation for gardens built and loved and left, and that in a future day I can enjoy that celestial garden and continue to tend it.

You Come Too

On the Choose Something Like a Star Mormon Tabernacle Choir CD is a Robert Frost poem set to music (masterfully!) by Randall Thompson. The lyrical, longing melody and message has been replaying in my mind for a few weeks now.

The Pasture

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

I have a lot of thoughts relative to this small poem. I think of the Ardeth Kapp Young Women value talks on tape that I listened to as a young girl and her stories of clearing the irrigation ditch with her father on their farm in Canada. I think of what this poem can teach about new life, and the life-giving necessity of water. I think of Dad's early morning check-ups on the yard and garden in Iowa, of stewardship and responsibility. I think of (odd as it may sound) Anne and Matthew and Marilla and their Green Gables acreage on Prince Edward Island. I think of the pleasantness of being busy alongside Mother Nature. I think of those "simple gifts" that provide grounding in a hectic world. I think of the value and need for companionship; of the seemingly mundane tasks made better by accomplishing them with good company. But mostly, I have been thinking of invitations.

There is something really magical about extending an invitation. This form of communication says in effect, "you could, you might, you would be welcome, it would be an honor", but then the follow through is in the receiver's hand. The giver of the invitation requires no committment and expects no definite response. It is interesting that in his poem Frost states his invitation instead of asks it, "--You come too." It is similar to the Savior's simple invitation to, "Come and see." Is is because in both cases the giver knows what great blessings can come from choosing to come? Is it their definitive assurance in the quality experience that will result by accepting the invitation? Surely, it is an eternal principle that focuses on agency and personal desire. A favorite hymn teaches that Heavenly Father will "call, persuade, direct aright, and bless with wisdom, love and light, in nameless ways be good and kind, but never force the human mind." So, come if you would, come if you may, no compulsion, no forcing of the will, but worth it if you so choose.

On a smaller scale I think of invitations received and extended in my own personal life. On Easter Sunday of this year, for example, I initiated a little Sunday breakfast of waffles and eggs and invited all my roommates to watch the Jeffrey R. Holland youtube video, None were with Him. It could have been so easy to make my own breakfast and watch the video as my own personal Sunday worship. But, I would have missed the bonding experience and spiritual atmosphere of our entire day because of the conversations that followed.

In late April/May I received an invitation, which I graciously accepted, to be involved in the missionary discussions of a young man investigating the church. I had the great privilege of co-teaching, of sharing, and bearing testimony with this young man as he began that impressive journey of understanding the gospel. How easy it would have been to miss such sweet experiences if it had not been for a few simple words of invitation from a friend.