First Snow

The big storm in Salt Lake on Friday brought an abrupt end to Indian summer. But we've needed the water and the storm brings yet another kind of beauty and a chance to reflect on the wonder that's all about us.

I'm grateful for this little planet we share. For its continents, oceans and seasons. For sunshine, darkness and light. For fall leaves and the much-needed storm which now covers them. The snow changes everything and nothing. Colors are muted at first and then almost completely masked. Sharp edges soften. Drivers who don't acknowledge the change are sometimes gently - and sometimes not so gently - reminded that the laws of physics still apply.

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Dry Canyon Reward

Anyday I can get a little exercise is a good day. If it happens to be on my mountain bike all the better. I might get a decent photo, spend some time with friend or loved one, feel more connected to the changing season, to the earth and sky. All of these things happened last Saturday afternoon when we headed up Dry Creek and were rewarded with this view of Salt Lake City through the October leaves.

Autumn is full of color, but much of it is color of leaves dying. It's end of the story for the leaves as a living part of the vista. Yes, they'll go on to other roles, they'll support other life, but their own lives are spent. I probably wound'nt think quite so much about this stuff if the fall of 1963 had turned out a differently for my dad. Hard to believe it's been four decades since we've enjoyed the seasons together. I'm not quite sure how I'll mark the 40th anniversary of his death on December 9, but I want to do something. What would you do? How do you celebrate a life that has had so much impact upon your own?

If you'd like to share your thoughts on these questions, just drop me an e-mail.

Salt Lake Sunset

Last night's surprise after work ride took us up past the Hogle Zoo to the Bonneville Shoreline Trail overlooking the Salt Lake valley. It's that time of year when I need to haul a sweatshirt and my light in the old backpack. The ride got pretty dark and cold by the time we headed back. The sunset shot was worth it, but of course I could have gotten the exposure and stayed warm and safe with a little more planning.

Today's quotation:
Diligence is the mother of good luck.
Benjamin Franklin
1706-1790

More from Millcreek

Saturday Morning in Millcreek Canyon

"When we teach a child to draw, we teach him how to see. When we teach a child to play a musical instrument, we teach her how to listen. When we teach a child to dance, we teach him how to move through life with grace. When we teach a child to read and write, we teach her how to think. When we nurture imagination, we create a better world, one child at a time."
--Jane Alexander

Daring Greatly

Jim Stewart blogged about about competition this weekend. Thanks again, Jim, for your perspective and for reminding me of this quotation:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." --Theodore Roosevelt