Tuesday, April 12 - Arrive at St. George, Utah

Tuesday,  April 12

How can I be so lucky in so many ways?  First of all, D. understands the strong ties the women in our family have, and then he encourages my participation in whatever way we can plan to get together.  This time I am with my 3 cousins who are sisters:  JoAnn, Vickie, and MaryLou.  ML lives in St. George with her husband and we others have come to their place – their luxuriously beautiful home on the outskirts of St. George, Utah near Ivins, which is a new, upscale residential area built where an old farm community used to be.  I pretty much guessed, knowing their home was new, that this would be a high-class vacation, but I was not prepared for the surroundings being astoundingly stunning. The view from every full wall-sized window here is of ridges of high, sculpted red rocks.  But that is not all.  I have been here since this afternoon, and every hour that passes brings a different shading and intensity to the coloring of those red walls.  Everyone here could think I have a lung problem, as whenever I look up, I gasp and stop breathing from the shock of the “new” view.  I can’t believe I have been here only half a day and already I feel enlightened and uplifted in so many dimensions.

Not the least of which is the reconnection with my cousins.  They say I may as well be another sister for all we have in common and the way we talk to each other, share mannerisms, and heighten our every moment, no matter if we are preparing a meal in the kitchen, or driving in the car together.  The kinship started immediately, with squeals across a parking lot as I popped out of the St. George Executive shuttle.  My ride from the Las Vegas airport  - an almost 2-hour drive – seemed only moments long, as I was in the up-front passenger seat and the driver Mike and I talked all the way north.  Mike himself is from St. George and had many suggestions of great hikes and points of interest, including some special festivities up-coming this week.  He narrated about the Virgin River Gorge as the highway climbed up through the “Arizona Strip”.  The topography north of Las Vegas was bland and flat; the colors, boring neutrals;  the landscape tufted with scrubby sagebrush.  It seemed the Arizona border was also the starting line for more interesting landscape.  Spiky mountains peaks on the horizon toppled to the west; sails of great masted ships, listing to port in the high wind that formed great swishes of cirrus clouds high in the warm blue sky. 

Then the floor of the desert dropped out and there was the Virgin River, brown as a mug of hot chocolate, and roiling too.  Apparently it is usually clear enough to see every stone under water, but it is run-off time of year right now.  The ground, for all these miles, was a dun color, but the cut-away showed the hillsides as if they were slices of a red velvet cake.  I imagined then the ground was a brown sugar topping; it was just that color.

Mike spoke with an accent I assumed was southern Utah, until he told me he was raised in Kentucky, on a Clydesdale horse ranch.  Here, he still likes to drive draft horses with carriages and wagons for public festivities.  He animatedly told me about how he rode a horse and took a pack mule up into the Pine Valley Mountains (we were looking at the snow-covered range at the time) with a cooler full of ice cream to meet the scouts at the end of their 50-mile adventure!  But, he talked also of something that I simply could not understand: in Kentuckian, it sounded like “czargum”.  Turned out to be “sorghum,” and his narrative was how his family had been involved in demonstrating how the pioneers grew sorghum and ground the canes for the syrup.  Seems the difference between that process and the resulting syrup and what one finds in the grocery stores call “sorghum syrup” is like pure maple syrup in the New England states compared to Mrs. Butterworth’s stuff.

After we had lunch at home – it takes us a lengthened amount of time to accomplish most chores because of our giggles and conversations tumbling upon each other – we got in the car and drove around the scope out a few trailheads.  Think of the joy in finding a week’s-worth of possibilities within 20 minutes of Parker’s home!  We start # 1 tomorrow morning!

The girls wouldn’t let me help in dinner preparations, saying “it is your first night here”.  Guess arrival day makes one exempt.  I did chop the ingredients for the fresh tossed salad.  We had lasagna and ML’s homemade cottage bread with honey butter.  I jumped up to clear the table and wipe away the bread crumbs.  But they kept delaying my efforts, saying “we’re having some dessert.”  Oh; I stopped with foot to the brake pedal.  From the pantry room came MaryLou with a cake a-fire…a birthday cake for me!  These “sisters” of mine had bought a dark – dark – chocolate cake the size only Costco can produce, covered with even darker shingles of chocolate shavings.  Yum!  I have been prepared to turn 70 in a few days, but I guess not, because the “7-0” candles a-light seemed rather blatant! They even presented me with wrapped gifts: a water-bottle/fanny pack, and a designer, one-of-a-kind hooded jacket!  It was their collective grins and giggles that delighted me too.  Fred sat with us and tolerated it all.

Parker's yard has a river going through it.  I was still in a travel daze when I got the tour of their home.  This was my first impression of "being here"; the red rocks and cactus:

(Imagine the thrill of going to sleep with the slider open next to my bed and hearing the little waterfall gurgling just feet away!)

 We drove around to check the trailheads.  MaryLou is so good about stopping for me to jump out.  No traffic was about, so I did get out a lot to stand in the road for the photo op.  In fact, I have a back-up crew of 2, because Jo and Vickie often exclaim, "Oh Lou, let MaryLynne get a picture of that."

 Snow Canyon is within walking distance of MaryLou's home! It was late afternoon, and shadows defined formations.  These "rocks' are actually petrified sand:

 Tuacahn is the end of a walking trail from ML's home.  There is an immense amphitheater built there:

 I call this "My Three Cousins"

 This is too, of course (Jo, Lou, Vickie) in Parker's sun-drenched back patio.  In the future, I too will be in these pics.  Ah...the sun has started to thaw my bones....