Another view looking west from Highway 89-T south of Page, Arizona….just a bit further down the road from the location of the image in my last post.
I would say that I know this creature intimately, but that might bring to mind thoughts of romance and love, and while there was a lot of fighting, cutting, scratching, and bleeding between myself and the 19 bushes that I had in my yard for almost two decades, there wasn’t a lot of romance involved. I will admit, however, in spite of the scars that I still carry from our lengthy affair, that I do find the Bougainvillea to be quite beautiful…and worthy of more than a little bit of love….
Anyway…I made this image while visiting family in Arizona this past October. The flowers are actually the small white structures in the center of the modified pink leaves. If you’d like the complete Wiki rundown, you can click here for more info.
It was a beautiful, winter morning and I had gone west from the Salt Lake Valley in hopes of finding some migrating Bald Eagles. I had no luck with that part of the adventure, but I did find a sun-clad sky, snow-covered mountains, and a refreshing breeze moving through the valley that contained Rush Lake. If you’re interested in such things, you can click here to read what Wikipedia has to offer about the lake.
At 9,400 feet in elevation, this is under several feet of snow right now, but this is what Bells Canyon upper reservoir looked like in August, 2013. After a moderately strenuous, four-hour hike to reach the location, there is peace to be found along the shore of this desolate, alpine lake. While there is no snow on the Salt Lake Valley floor, it will be another few months before the trails are clear enough for me to make the venture this far up into the mountains…and I can’t wait…..
it was the first in another stage of what has already been many trips down the road to and from an old place to a new one and back again and now the old is new and the new is old and desire is pulled in its different directions while the things that are passing are indeed passing and mostly without notice because they are not seen in their many familiarities, the eyes are on the road and the surrounding mountains and clouds in order to make it from one point to another and all the things in between are scant registers on a mental screen that has been focused toward what is within and not without…
the shadowed and purpled mountains didn’t register inside the lens as they did in my mind and it was only with disappointment that I stared at the screen with its muted hues and wondered at beauty and desire and hope, I had looked closer in another direction, through the side window, actually, beyond the bug-splatter on the forward windscreen and the highway railing and yellow lines and fractured glass and butts along the shoulder and it didn’t just come to me then, I had to seek it out, intentionally
This is a wider angle of a similar image that you might remember from my earlier post, Sailboats on The Great Salt Lake. Looking west, that is Stansbury Island in the background…a continuation of the string of mountains that have the same name and extend several miles south from the lake.