A Place to Contemplate

Grafton, Utah ... a Ghost Town

When was the last time you took time out of your day to sit on a bench or curl up in your favorite chair to just think? Having, or ... taking time to contemplate may seem like such a luxury in the midst of our chaotic lives.

When visiting Zion National Park, we wandered to the little ghost town of Grafton. In 1930 it had a booming population of 23. A few lovely, old and well preserved buildings still exist. The community was established to grow cotton in the fertile soil along the Virgin River.

I'd like to think this bench was used by some woman who just needed to sit and enjoy a few moments to herself. She might have had a sketch book in hand, a well read Bible or she just wanted to breath in nourishment for her soul. What this photo doesn't show is the view beyond.

Having been there, I know what the view is. There is a beautiful sweeping valley, with now uncultivated fields and rugged mountains in the distance. One of my Grandma's favorite verses is taken from Psalm 121. It says in part, "I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from the mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains." A question to contemplate: What are you seeing ... are you looking out?

Reflect, ponder, contemplate ... see the view that is beyond ~ Missy

Comments

urban girl in the country

green in concrete For the last lot-of-years I’ve lived in urban areas. I’ve become a city girl with hints of a flower child mixed with hipster nuances…translated I like to wear skinny jeans. This is the total opposite of how I grew up, which was on a farm. My paternal grandparents grew, raised, caught and hunted for everything they ate – radical organic, free-range stuff. On my Mom’s side of the fam tree, there were green grocers and orchard growers. Heck, I was in 4-H raising feeder calves and a small flock of wooly sheep. Gardens, canning, freezing and preserving everything was the ordinary. I carried on the gardening-preserving, saving the spoils piece, until I found myself in fresh veggie-at-a-farmer’s-market heaven! The foreign city I found myself in had a temperate climate where fruit and vegetables could be grown year ‘round, and … it was sold at a giant open air market every week. Yippee! I no longer needed to ...

road tripping: french glen and steens mountain

we took a stinkin' lot of dirt roads, but i wouldn't have it any other way The drive wasn’t long by west coast standards, a mere few of hours; which meant there was plenty of leisure (interpreted coffee time) before leaving on another road trip escapade. I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it is to pack a bag, gas up the car and set out to see what can be seen. An interesting thing I’ve discovered on these exploits, is that having lived in Oregon for the majority of my life, I’ve missed “seeing” a lot of things. You know, I think we all get into the habit of going to the same places, which is a good thing, but we forget about the “other” places that are right in our own backyards. Case in point, yesterday afternoon, when my darling man and I went to Tumalo Falls. I’ve been to Skyliner Snow Park, but never gone the few more dirt road miles to see the falls. Holy cow! Is that lame, or what? a sweet little place, no frills, but plenty of yesteryear ...

wishing flower, vulnerable and beautiful

do you see a weed or a wish? Let’s just say, I’m not an early morning girl. Those who know me appreciate this and quietly leave me alone until I’ve had a chance to emerge from my pre-coffee zombie state. However, there is a bird glee club that begins at about 3:30, yes in the morning. It’s lovely and melodic; leaving me no choice but to listen. Translated, this means I’ve been up before my norm. The youthful hours are warm, but fresh; they beg for a walk, and so does Isabella. Yesterday was a little cooler so our pace was speedy, at least for my little legs. We passed cars and bushes and bugs zipping around … and the rejected weed. pulled up by its roots discarded wishing flower tossed aside left at the edge of the sidewalk the sun beat down life ebbing from the slender stalk, leaves drying, privately curling desperate to hold onto being funny , how I noticed the thrown-away on a morning walk my thought to stop and ...

Isabella Bird Miscellany

Search This Blog