I am grateful to live in California, to realize the dream upon which we embarked nearly twenty years ago, to relish its natural endowments and immense beauty.
The torrential rain and ravaging wind came fast across the plain and effortlessly tossed the car along that barely discernible ribbon of road as you deftly gripped the steering wheel and kept us safe.
Water gushed from the sky and whitewashed the valley floor falling harder and faster than the desert sand could absorb as we pushed onward towards our destination outside of Zion.
We came upon the hillside invitingly dotted with white canvas tents set against the darkening sky still ripe with rain. Our reprieve, our reward, spellbound by the red rock and mercurial skies of summer in Utah, the explorer in us excited by the adventure on which we were embarking.