Without a doubt, water has always been of primary concern in our corner of the world. It is my understanding the Ancestral Puebloans deserted this region because of a devastating drought that overstayed its welcome. Dry and dusty can, after all, only be tolerated for short periods. Although I may be over-simplifying a complex situation, it is necessary under the circumstances, so please bear with me.
The early people of this area developed an understanding of plants, animals, water and weather patterns which rivals modern biological and meteorologic training. Their cultural teachings focused on balance in all areas of life, including land stewardship. Archaeologists tell us Navajo people wandered into this territory several centuries ago; perhaps seven hundred years or more. Their adaptive skills in this parched and desolate landscape helped them survive and multiply. They did not rely on fixed locations like the Puebloan people. Instead, they moved through the land to survive, migrating from one location to another as things changed. When the water, grass and wild game began to dwindle in the current location, they simply moved to the next little patch of heaven. Simple, efficient and practical.
According to David S. Carpenter in his masters thesis entitled Jens Nielson, Bishop of Bluff, the Mormon settlers arrived in our sandstone valley April 6, 1880. From that day forward, it was a battle for them. An unmanageable river, scant rainfall, disease and all the trials and tribulations associated with eking out an existance in a distant, troublesome desert environment had to be managed.
Exactly when the Simpsons arrived in Bluff is uncertain. Someone probably left the back door open, allowing us to slip in unnoticed. One of Bluff's rare, measurable rises in precipitation came from the tears shed by residents of this small community at our coming out party. Although we have been invited to relocate on numerous occasions, we have held fast. What is even scarier is that Steve and I are currently the only people writing any sort of interpretive perspective for our fair town. It is common knowledge that once the information is written into the public record, the stories are considered fact.
Even though this climate can be harsh, there is always beauty. A purely natural, raw expression of exposed earth and sky; the type that enchants many of us beyond our ability to describe the emotions. It is simple, yet sophisticated; an experience that changes one's perception of true beauty. Add a little moisture to the mix, and a fresh,nourishing perspective assaults your senses.
The soft shadow of an early winter's evening had settled over our tiny hamlet as I recently left the trading post parking lot. A faint, delicate twilight was wrapping itself around the sandstone boulders, stunted brush and distorted cottonwoods of Cow Canyon as I passed through its sheer walls. I exited the ragged rift at a fast clip, and was pleasantly surprised to find the sun had not yet set. I found myself emerging from the semi-darkness of the chasm into the rosy blush of evening light.
The drastically slanted sunlight projected itself across the high mesa in a warm and pleasing glow. The light emanating from the leisurely setting orb was magical. The soft-colored illumination provided a luminous effect to the surrounding landscape. As I drove north, the shadow of my truck kept pace at the side of the road. I waved and
smiled to myself, watching as my specter flowed out and back, undulating with the lay of the land.
As I crested the hill north of Bluff, my focus was instantly drawn to our local mountain, and its white cap of moisture. The impact on my emotions caused a breakdown in my motor skills. I was so caught up in the scene that I nearly missed a curve and side swiped an oncoming Grey Hound bus. I am sure the passengers witnessing the red blur of careening metal rocketing their way experienced a spike of emotion.
After regaining control of my vehicle and senses, I refocused on the beauty of the stark white visage set before me. The adrenaline rush I had just survived may have contributed to the heightened pleasure I experienced. The contrast between red rock canyon country, purple depths of distant color, blue smudge of evergreen trees on backlit slopes and the rosy hue of refracted sunlight was awe inspiring. It never ceases to amaze me how attractive Mother Nature is for such such an elderly lady. Maybe it is her inexplicable character and perpetually changing continence that make her so appealing.
The stark beauty of that moisture laden mountain rising up above the canyon country almost brought tears to my eyes. Remembering the historical record made me realize the water Gods had granted us a short reprieve. A long drawn out drought has been busted; at least for now. With the arrival of spring will come a bounty of wild flowers, green grass, a fast flowing river and all manner of new life from the much
needed moisture. If we are lucky there may be enough water to give Steve a real bath; now that will clear the air. This is the type of precipitation our pioneer and Native American brothers and sisters were most thankful for; that which provides a continuation of body and soul.
See Blue Mountain and Book here :
http://twinrocks.com/tempemails/book_mtnpics/
Sincerely,
Barry
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