A conversation in the Wasatch Mountains

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![image]()![image]()In 1992 I was 22 years old and I'd just left Minneapolis to start a job at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. There are wilds in the West that have always held my sway-although I've spent many years since-lost in the jungles of Midwest concrete and too often settled for the occasional trip to the park to feed my need of space. How do we become what we become? How easily habit dictates time. Our time here. On June 3rd I flew to Salt Lake City and stood in the window of the airport staring at the Wasatch Mountains and crying. Nothing but glass separating me from who I have become and who I'm meant to be. The paper-thin difference of night and day. This is why I'm here. So...I eat a lot of ice cream cones and love to nap. My favorite days are spent alone writing, painting, wandering, and listening. I love Neil Diamond and kind deep honesty. I grew up on a dairy farm and still miss cows. I went to Art School for a bit but grew weary of all the art. Sarcastic Peter Pan. Sometimes just a Lost Boy. Maybe I'm Goldilocks if she had never met the bears. Thank you for accepting me and thank you for all the adventures to come!❤️