Yes, it is Paradise!

Did you know that I live in paradise? Really, I do. Paradise Valley. Now some would argue that it is not a true paradise because it comes with its fair share of goat heads, poison ivy, thistles, bind weed and such, but who’s counting?

Paradise is probably in the eye of the beholder. Growing up in North Dakota with endless miles of green fields and lush prairies, the first time I lived in the desert was a SHOCK. But then again, we really lived in the DESERT. Central Utah has a lot of sand, and wind, and sand. The combination of which would remove the paint from your car if you left it out long enough. It was hot and flat and arid and devoid of life as I knew it. I had serious doubts about people who would actually CHOSE to live there. Not me. I was a seasonal, fly by night visitor that only spent a couple summer months there. And was ever so I grateful when I could move on!

My second exposure to the Utah desert lasted nine years. While not a happy camper initially, I grew to love the land. For in that area, there were mountains that offered respite from the unrelenting sun and heat. One could escape to an idyllic world of mountain streams and pine forests within minutes. But the harsh reality of sand, sagebrush and cactus was just around the corner. In those nine years, I began to appreciate the stark, but often, overwhelming beauty of the desert. I did not find it in the heat or sand or stickers. I learned to appreciate the small things around me. I found beauty in the infinite hues of the rocks, in those tiny green plants that manage to survive and even thrive in a hostile environment. The tenacious trees that took root in solid rock; trees that were bent in surrender to the wind and weather, and yet still managed to cling to life. The desert varnish that poured down the canyon walls painting them with extraordinary color, the sunsets, the snowflakes the size of silver dollars that created a new and pristine world all became a part of the incredible beauty I now saw. It was all there, beauty everywhere, I just had to look.

From there we moved to Idaho, which in its own way was not so far from the farming landscape of North Dakota. Even though the desert was not that far out of sight, it felt a little less “deserty” with all the irrigation surrounding us.  Glenns Ferry came after short interludes in Caldwell and Pendleton,

The mighty Snake as it winds through the mesas.

Oregon. But by that time I had learned to see beyond the obvious. I never tire of the infinite shades of purple and blue and gray that meld our mesa landscapes into works of art at sunset. Have you truly admired a desert flower blooming in the midst of a vast area of nothing, or even managing to bless us with its beauty beside the road? What about the crystal clarity of our night sky. Beauty is everywhere, we have but to look.

I have begun to see people in the same light. What appears on the surface is often not a true depiction of that person. Why is it so easy to judge? I fall into it so easily. They are not dressed right, they are dirty, they are uneducated, they are rude or ill mannered, they step on my toes, they are . . . you fill in the blank. I have friends and acquaintances from all walks of life, all ages, all interests. And while that can sometimes cause friction, more often than not, it enriches how I perceive things. You just have to look. What about that person who is rude? Perhaps they are hurting or frightened. Seek out young people, they are the future. Learn from them. Settle in with the aged, they have so much wisdom and humor to share. One of my good friends was 103 when she died a few years ago. She was a pistol and I loved every minute I spent with her.

Like everything else on this planet, we are unique. No two trees or flowers or animals are identical, why should we be? Instead, we should enjoy our differences, learn from other’s experiences, and remember that we could be that thorn in someone else’s shoe. Like the goat heads and cactus, sometimes the sharp stuff gets all our attention. You can lay money on the fact that I don’t like to step on a thorn, and you can also be assured that I will be more careful next time. There is nothing wrong

Even Rabbit brush can be pretty!

with being careful, as long as it doesn’t keep us from truly living life to the fullest, sharing our life with others and softening our edges so we don’t damage those around us. And there are times when I willingly go back for more. Not because I enjoy the pain involved, but because I know it will be satisfying in the end. Case in point . . . I have wild blackberries everywhere; they would be in the house if I don’t get them cut back. It is necessary to expose myself to the thorns to accomplish the task. Not because I want to . . . but because I must. And the outcome will be good. I will not have stickers in yard and I will have fruit within reach. Sometimes we have to think long term and suffer a bit to create something beautiful and useful. Is it worth it? Every time!

Just writin' on the River Road