Mountains

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I am taking a lighting design class at school (very exciting). 

 

Part of our work in the course is keeping a journal of significant, non-production-related lighting moments in our everyday life.  I wrote my first one and thought...hey!Iinstant blog post! (Actually I did edit it a bit ;)

This is for you Kelly :)

Right after class I had to drive down to work in Orem, and as I turned East toward Provo Canyon I was confronted with the sunset shining on the snow-covered mountain in front of me.  The light was one of those gorgeous, clear, orange-pink hues that nature only produces every month or so.   It was so striking it caught me off guard. 

It appeared that the mountain was the only thing affected by the light.  As the sun began to dip below the canyon rim on the other side of the valley, a grey-blue shadow creept up the bottom of the mountain’s slopes.  There was also a thick cloud hanging over the sun that seemed to cast a shadow over the very top of the mountain.  The sky behind the mountain was very blue, but darkened as well because there were no clouds in it to reflect the setting sun.  The result was a strip of light pink as a rose in the center and fading to a peachy-orange on the edges.  It shone on the mountain-side as though it were a canvas, highlighting the striped layers of rock that had been forced out of the earth when the mountain was first made.

I encountered this moment in the middle of a very busy day, my mind occupied with organizing all the things I was going to do, but the beauty of this picture--the bigness of it--really gave me pause. I have always been awed by mountains. To me, they are the grandest things in nature, and my favorite aspect of Utah. I love how big they are, and how they never look the same. The sun sets every day on those mountains, but I’ve never seen it quite like this.

I took a picture with my phone (Yes, while I was driving. Don’t tell.), but of course it couldn’t even come close to capturing the huge reality it represented. I don’t know how to describe the feeling it gave me. It was...big. The mountains seemed so immense, and I was so glad that I was there to appreciate it. Rather than making me feel small (as sometimes viewing large things is said to do) it made me feel special--like I’d been given a gift--to have been able to be there and see it. This occurence was only made more precious by the fact that I am a part of it. Those are my mountains. I’ve hiked them many times, and have spent many moments otherwise appreciating the wonder of their raw beauty. Seeing them in this way I felt at home, and very happy to be who I am, and where I am.