I would like to write about this past week in one post even though the more organized part of me could compartmentalize the different elements and themes into several different posts, or at least do a chronological, journal type series. Instead I am inspired by the haphazard cataclysm of the Rockies to just throw it all together and let the dramatic diagonal strata be exposed for what they are. The resultant dust will either settle or be washed downstream, but it will not disappear.
Above the strata, dust, flora and fauna stand my husband and children. Now that number one son is approaching 21, and does not really like road trips, he was left behind to take care of the subterranean homestead and the omni-terrestrial Church services. The homestead is subterranean because before the flood, the ground it now stands upon was buried. Texas is part of the great drainage system east of the Great Divide, which we crossed. I would like to read Bill Bryson's Short History of Nearly Everything to be better informed, but barely south of my house is a famous deposit of dinosaur tracks that they say are embedded in what used to be the Texas coast. If that is so, since then more deposits of dirt have extended it perhaps through the great explosions of Yellowstone volcanoes. This must have been pre-flood, because since then layers of sediment have solidified, and great tracks of it washed away by the Flood and subsequent rains, leaving too flat valleys for any other explanation between fingered, stratified ridges. At least west of the Dallas Fort Worth metroplex where I live. East of here is more flat, but greener as the drainage becomes more concentrated. These ridges, plains, and valleys make a gradual, leveling ascent to the great plains in the Texas panhandle. Palo Duro Canyon, 30 miles south of Amarillo, reveals a not too modest crack in the high plains with beautiful layers, especially the red sandstone which makes the Red River, which separates us from Oklahoma, red.
Number two son did not play in the canyon with the rest of us because he was completing his nine days at the Gunnison, Colorado Observatory. His physics group won a grant to travel there to set up new equipment to confirm the existence of planets in other solar systems. It took a few days to calibrate the equipment, and then just when they were ready, rain and clouds prevented any observations through the telescopes for the rest of his time. Before the rain though, Jared saw the milkiest Milky Way he had ever seen through his contact lensed eyes. They still had work to do with some sort of calculations, and additionally had fun scoping out the area with his comrades before we arrived to pick him up. This made him an excellent restaurant and hiking guide for us. We did not get to meet his classmates because google maps plotted the wrong directions to the observatory. We spent an hour driving around in the beautiful mountains south of Gunnison while his friends said good-bye and packed up. One of them let him copy her trip pictures onto his flash drive, so at least we got to see them that way.
After picking Jared up from his hotel, we spent a day hiking around Gunnison and Crested Butte. By then the rain had cleared and the temperature warmed a bit. I am amazed at how warm 60 degrees feels at 12,000 feet. That night we had delicious local pizza and told Jared about recent events, obliquely referred to in my post the beginning of the week before. The heaviness has not gone, but was more easily born at higher elevations in the thinner air and almost overwhelming surroundings. In our winter trip through the Appalachians, which was preceded by a lets-ignore-everything reunion, the surroundings completely absorbed my attention. The more dramatic Rockies were not able to drown everything out. Though they did quiet them a good bit. The Rockies were loud enough, however, to distract me from The Man Who Was Thursday, by G.K. Chesteron. We had gone through the first 60 pages in the Texas plains, which accommodate audible.com embellishment. The Rockies wouldn't have it. This way Jared had time to catch up on those 60 pages, as I had also brought the book and was reading along to help my concentration, which has been very scattered since last week. We all, except for Rebecca who had other things to do, listened together for the remaining five hours after Amarillo coming home. We had about half an hour to discuss it for the remainder of the drive. We didn't like some of the dualistic/ying yang theology nor the Alice in Wonderland type ending (see Aaron's clarifying comment), but thought the characters were pretty intelligently done. The initial confrontations were very engaging, but I thought some of the revelations disappointing. He paid homage to women at the very beginning and ending of the story with what I guess is a Beatrice-type allusion. This balances out his emphasis on and justification for the war-like actions of men, not that I agree with the nature of these balances or justifications. All of this can slightly be spun in one's own mind regarding spiritual warfare with one's own sins, but the way the God-type character is depicted makes that a very generous stretch. Still, I like the way Chesterton works out his philosophy in fiction, even if I don't agree with it. He made a comment in the preface about the story being written in a play-like manner. I notice this with C.S. Lewis too. There's a lot of cutting to the chase. I like that this story can be read in one trip to Colorado, or rather Amarillo, and back, unlike David Copperfield which was four times longer. But I don't know if I would have liked Lewis or Chesterton to lengthen theirs, nor Dickens to shorten his. They are what they are in the way they are written.
I think I'll post pictures next time.
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