After a chaotic summer, I'm working to establish some routine again.
Ross has been here for a few weeks, which has been really nice, of course, but he heads back to Seattle this weekend.
Lucy seems to be settling in pretty well.
The mountains are so close to the city, and so surprising.
Stilllife: Catie With Mysterious Berries.
Study for "Berries."
Ross, V, Catie and I went on a quest for some creek dipping a few weeks ago but learned that wading and swimming aren't allowed in order to protect the watershed.
Then Ross and I took a short hike on Labor Day weekend.
Generally, I hate to see aspens with names scratched into them, but I can't help but kind of like these old Basque sheepherder carvings. I suppose I forgive them for carving up the trees. It was pre-environmental movement, and they were all alone in foreign mountains. It seems that carving your name or drawing a little picture in the bark of a tree might have been assurance that you existed, when otherwise you were floating, insignificant, lost.
A few years ago Ross and I met Judy on a visit to SLC through some friends. Although I have only spent a little time with Judy, all those times are particularly memorable: a churchyard after listening to a string quartet, a picnic overlooking the tremendous open pit Kennecot Mine (the mine trucks looked like toys down there), wandering through an almost forgotten cemetery in Tuscarora, NV, examining Mormon crickets as they dragged each others' corpses across the highway. Anyway, Judy took Ross and I on a picnic high on hill overlooking the city. It turned out that day was Judy's 36th anniversary of living in Salt Lake. She moved here for grad school from New Zealand way back when. We toasted her home.
After a chaotic summer, I'm working to establish some routine again.
Ross has been here for a few weeks, which has been really nice, of course, but he heads back to Seattle this weekend.
Lucy seems to be settling in pretty well.
The mountains are so close to the city, and so surprising.
Stilllife: Catie With Mysterious Berries.
Study for "Berries."
Ross, V, Catie and I went on a quest for some creek dipping a few weeks ago but learned that wading and swimming aren't allowed in order to protect the watershed.
Then Ross and I took a short hike on Labor Day weekend.
Generally, I hate to see aspens with names scratched into them, but I can't help but kind of like these old Basque sheepherder carvings. I suppose I forgive them for carving up the trees. It was pre-environmental movement, and they were all alone in foreign mountains. It seems that carving your name or drawing a little picture in the bark of a tree might have been assurance that you existed, when otherwise you were floating, insignificant, lost.
A few years ago Ross and I met Judy on a visit to SLC through some friends. Although I have only spent a little time with Judy, all those times are particularly memorable: a churchyard after listening to a string quartet, a picnic overlooking the tremendous open pit Kennecot Mine (the mine trucks looked like toys down there), wandering through an almost forgotten cemetery in Tuscarora, NV, examining Mormon crickets as they dragged each others' corpses across the highway. Anyway, Judy took Ross and I on a picnic high on hill overlooking the city. It turned out that day was Judy's 36th anniversary of living in Salt Lake. She moved here for grad school from New Zealand way back when. We toasted her home.
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