The City Creek Canyon

23 September 2008

So I'm journaling out of order. The chronology of experience is less important to me than the sequence of reflection and incorporation.

I hadn't planned on riding the few days before I left. On Monday, Shalece persuaded me to ride City Creek the next morning (it didn't take much convincing). She made me work to keep pace with her and as we reached the top, the sun had yet to warm the chill away or dabble the creek and canyon road. In the dawn quietness, we walked the trail at the road's end, in awe that Salt Lake offers so much so close to the city, and talking a little of her new religious responsibilities. It's daunting, feeling engaged into others' spiritual well being. Of course, people are ultimately responsible for themselves. We are responsible for how we treat them, for how we love. And that's a difficult and constant thing.

We rode down past the limestone fins in the canyon's upper reaches and into the warm sunlight that awakened the autumn palette, the breeze tumbling leaves across the narrow road.

Shalece was one of the main supports for the garden that Julie and I planted at their place. The soil needed more than we gave it. Did we amend it enough for a healthy fruiting? The tomatoes were were thriving, maybe with too much foliage and not enough fruit, but we were beginning to reap a wide variety of heirlooms. Were the melons getting enough water to ripen? The true lemon cucumbers and the high bush eggplant were delicious. The peppers managed, but maybe needed more water and a little more time on the bush, as we tended to be a little antsy in picking them. I suppose at some point you've done what you know how to do, but you always want to do more.

I was a little sad, not being able to enjoy the full harvest. A lot of work went into digging and double digging, planting and tending and trellising. But I enjoyed a fair portion, and there's an odd appeal to working hard and letting others reap. (Not that Julie and Shalece haven't worked. They have, a lot). Something enjoyable about planting, then leaving.

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